Deadly Risks
by foreverme98
Summary: Prompt given to me by jcampbell943: Eric gets hurt by the factionless and Tris has to take care of him. Feelings develop, bonds are tested, lines are drawn, and Tris has to find a way to not lose herself in the chaos that is her life. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

"We can't let him roam free," Evelyn says.

As fierce as ever, Evelyn stands in the room where Four and Edward placed the wounded man. She's glaring at his prone figure like if she stares hard enough he'll burst into flames, therefore, solving the problem he presents.

"They want him dead," Four says.

'They' being the numerous factionless roaming the city.

"And for good reason," she replies. "He's a murderer. He stands against everything we're fighting for."

There's something about that sentence I find wrong. Since when has it become okay to execute someone just because they believe in different things? Can he help it, he isn't like us? Is it his fault, he isn't Divergent?

"He might not even survive the attack," Edward points out.

It's a valid point, I think to myself. His attacker drove the knife in pretty deep. He's lost a fair amount of blood. The chance of the wound becoming infected is high.

"And if he does?" Evelyn asks harshly. "My people will want justice."

"We can hold a trial if he survives," Four suggests.

A trial is a nice way of saying 'execution'. No one in this city will be fair and unbiased when it comes to Eric. Each and every one of them would love to see him taken out. Mainly because of his association with Jeanine Matthews. Also, because he's targeted Divergent's since this stupid war started.

"You've been awfully quiet, Tris. What do you think ought to be done?" Evelyn asks me.

I'm confused as to why my opinion matters. Evelyn has made it clear I'm not anywhere close to being one of her favorite people. She hasn't done anything to hide the way she feels about me. Is this her way of giving me a chance to redeem myself in her eyes?

And then there's the question itself. I don't know what should be done. I'm not sure I really care. Eric has been a pain in my ass since we met, and his fate is none of my concern.

And yet...

I'm pretty sure I don't want him dead. I definitely don't want him to die when our only reason for killing him is because the majority want it.

I glance over at the person in question. He looks far less deadly asleep. Perhaps it's because his impossibly cold eyes are hidden from view. Or maybe it's because he's not holding a gun to my head.

"Ms. Prior?" she prompts.

"It would be wrong to kill him now," I say. "We would be no better than him if we did. Four's idea of a trial might be our best option."

She observes me, a calculating gleam in her eyes. I don't expect her to take my advice seriously. Evelyn follows her own advice, though she does like to pretend she considers the advice of others if only to make her appear to be a good leader.

"Alright," she agrees. "We'll wait and see if he makes it. There's one condition, however."

"And that would be?" I ask.

"He'll be under your protection while he recovers."

Eight harmless words individually, but put together, in that order, they're a bucket full of cold water; they're a pit full of snakes.

"You want him placed under my care?"

She must know how horrible of an idea that is. Surely, she knows how badly things will turn out if we go down that path. Eric is dangerous and I doubt even a stab wound will slow him down if he decides to kill me.

If the smug look she's sporting says anything, then she's fully aware of what she's asking me to do. Fully aware of the risk. I'm not really surprised. Evelyn is a hard woman who takes care of herself first. We're just faceless soldiers she needs to win a war.

"Yes. If that's a problem, then I'll grab my gun and we can move on to the next problem," she says.

Four looks conflicted; Edward looks excited.

It's interesting how willing she is to take a life. So very interesting how eager she is to exhibit violence. I have a feeling if her son was laying in Eric's place, her response would still be the same.

"That won't be necessary," I reply. "I'll do it."

She smiles serenely. "I hope you know what you're doing," she says.

I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I'll regret later.

"I can handle him," I say, jaw locked, eyes narrowed.

Four rubs the back of his neck nervously. "It isn't safe, Tris," he says.

"So we should shoot him when he's wounded; let his blood stain our hands?" I retort.

I stare Evelyn down. "We're better than that," I say hotly.

"It would seem Abnegation has made a lasting impression on you," she murmurs.

"I'm sorry I can't say the same for you," I reply, my voice hard.

I've gone too far. I know this.

Funny, but there's no regret.

"Tris," Four warns.

"It's alright," she says. "Tris is welcome to her opinion."

Her words are peaceful, but her face tells a different story. Despite the dangerous ground I've dared to tread, I don't apologize, I don't back down.

"Take him to her room," she commands Four and Edward. "And tell her roommates, they'll have to bunk somewhere else."

Just like that, they follow out her orders. There's no hesitation, no defiance. Am I the only one unsure of the wisdom in giving this woman ultimate power? The more I learn, the more I come to find very little difference between her and Jeanine Matthews.

Once they are gone, Evelyn takes deliberate steps in my direction. "You might think you know better, Tris, but you are nothing more than a child. I'd be careful if I were you," she says.

"Are you threatening me?" I ask.

"Think of it more as a friendly warning," she replies, her concern false.

I nod a few times thoughtfully. "Well, this has been fun," I say, "but I have a psychopath to babysit."

I don't wait for a reply. I want her to know her "friendly warning" doesn't scare me. I've gone through Hell and back. Evelyn's going to have to try harder if she wants to see me cower.

* * *

"Be careful," Four tells me.

"I always am," I say, grinning.

"If by always you mean never, then sure," he replies sarcastically.

"I have to do this. I have too much blood on my hands...I couldn't let her shoot him when I had the power to prevent it."

"He's done so much, Tris..."

"We all have. We've all crossed lines."

"Some lines should never be crossed though," he says.

"And who are you to say what we should and should not do during a war?" I ask. "The lines are blurred, Four. Right and wrong are no longer as black and white as we might like them to be."

"I don't believe that," he says.

He stands up on his pedestal and he judges that of which he doesn't understand. He hasn't had to make the hard calls. He hasn't had to shoot a friend in the head in order to survive. He hasn't watched his parents bleed out before his very eyes.

I purse my lips, shrug lightly, and hold my door open for him. I have no time for his self righteous lectures. If he lives through what's coming our way, he might come to understand just how twisted things become in a revolution.

He leaves without argument and it's probably because he has no time for someone as lost as _me_...

Turning to my bed, I take in the man currently occupying it. He's as white as a sheet; deathly still. If I couldn't see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, I'd think he was dead.

Setting my shoulders, I get to work. Whoever dressed the wound did a half-way decent job, and I wonder who cared enough to put in this much effort.

I go to the bathroom to wet a washcloth for his face. Already he's showing signs of having a fever. He doesn't stir while I clean him up, and by the time I've done all I can, I'm ready to let sleep claim me as well.

I take the bed next to him - it used to belong to some redhead - and I place my gun beside me on the mattress.

The last thing I see as I sink into blissful unconsciousness is Eric - lying helpless in my bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Eric's POV

I'm hot, I'm cold. My head is fuzzy and it feels like someone has stuck a hot fire iron in my stomach. It burns and throbs in time to the pounding of my heart.

There's a scream stuck in the back of my throat. I resist the temptation.

 _I'm not weak, I'm not weak, I'm not weak._

My eyes are shut. I hate the darkness. I always have so I scratch and claw my way to the surface, prying my eyelids open with sheer force of will.

The light blinds me. It's so bright the hammer pounding between my eyes gets worse, and increases further when I realize I'm not in my room. I'm not in Dauntless. I try to remember how I could have gotten here, but my mind is betraying me; I can't remember what happened.

I try to sit up, to search the immediate area for threats, but as soon as I push up by my elbows, the fire iron twists itself painfully in my gut, causing black spots to appear before my eyes. I fall back, panting, trying to find my breath.

I slow my breathing down. I remind myself to be reasonable, to be logical. I can work out the problem if I remain calm. Whatever I do, I can't allow the fear to rule me. I want to survive and to survive I've got to stay in control, so I center my mind, push the fear and pain away, and I turn my head to figure out where I am.

The room is medium-sized; bare white walls, two wooden dressers, and three twin beds make up the space. And as my eyes roam over the area, I see someone I never imagined I'd see again - Tris Prior, the Stiff.

I haven't seen her since she shot me in the foot back when Dauntless attacked Abnegation. I haven't been able to forget her either. I've dissected and analyzed the memory of that moment a million times.

My mind keeps taking me to when she pulled the trigger. She looked me straight in the eye when she did it. She showed no hesitation in doing what she thought needed to be done. That look has been seared into my brain permanently.

I can admire her bravery now. _Then,_ I'd been too angry, too embarrassed to admit it, but the thing I remember more clearly than anything else is that she didn't kill me. Right after the gun fired, I wondered why she hadn't aimed for my head or my chest. I still wonder, I still don't understand.

Right now, she's lying on her side, facing me, her small hand wrapped around a gun with her finger already prepared to pull the trigger.

I want her to be awake. For some reason, I want to see her green eyes focused on me. I've been waiting to see her for a long time, and I don't want to wait any longer.

I cough loudly a few times, the movement killing my abdomen. It works though because she starts shifting restlessly, mumbling in her sleep.

I can't help it - I smile. Then I wipe it from my face when her eyes flutter open. In mere seconds, her gaze lands on me. As quick as a heartbeat, she's rolled off of the bed, training her gun at me.

"You've got to stop pointing guns at me," I say. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me."

She snorts. "I _don't_ like you."

She's a sight. The small part of me that isn't a monster, wonders why Jeanine wants to eliminate such a passionate person. The fire blazing in her eyes should never be extinguished.

I'm losing focus though. This isn't me. I'm loyal to Jeanine's cause. The Divergent can't be controlled and uncontrollable people create chaos. They have to be taken care of. It's just the way it has to be.

"Feelings mutual," I sneer halfheartedly.

Making a face, she lowers her weapon a fraction of an inch. "How are you feeling?" she asks, gesturing to my stomach.

"Fine," I grit out.

I hold my anger close. I ignore the strange, happy feeling sitting heavily on my chest. I want to smother the feeling till it dies; I want to bury it so far in my being, it disappears.

I can't though.

She observes me for a few seconds. "I need to take a look at it," she tells me.

Smirking, I say, "Go for it."

"You'd like that," she says sarcastically. "Give you the chance to snap my neck."

Without really thinking about it, my brain shies away from the image her words create. I couldn't kill her before, I can't kill her now. The reason still remains elusive to me.

I raise my hands in surrender. "I promise I won't hurt you."

She seems to consider that. Sighing, she tosses the gun to the bed, and walks till she's by my side. "Let's take a look," she says.

My heart races when her fingertips brush my skin. Her touch burns me. Her simple, impersonal caress lights a pleasant kind of fire in my stomach. The heat from her fingers warms me to my core.

She deftly removes the bandage, completely unaware of my internal struggle. "It hasn't bled, so that's good," she murmurs.

"Yeah," I rasp.

I don't understand it, but I can't take my eyes off of her. She's so close, I can see the freckles dotting her face. I'm able to see the flecks of blue in her green eyes.

"You cut your hair," I blurt out.

I mentally kick myself. What's wrong with me?

Her surprised expression is like a smack in the face. "I did," she says.

It's nice. It's pretty. "It's different," I say.

She doesn't say anything while she replaces the bandage with a fresh one. I jerk when she places a hand over my forehead. It's warm, and I want to grab it and bring it back to my face when she removes it.

"Your fever is gone," she says.

To distract myself, I ask, "Am I a prisoner now?"

"Until we figure out what to do with you," she replies, her voice strangely devoid of emotion.

Which means I'll most likely end up dead. I might escape, I might not, but I have this nagging feeling in my gut that I might not make it out of this one alive.

"How did you get stuck playing nurse maid?" I ask, watching her rummage through one of the wooden drawers.

"No one else volunteered," she responds.

My brows furrow in confusion. "And you did?"

She freezes in place. "Something like that," she replies quietly.

She's hiding something. Not that I expect her to be completely honest. Tris isn't stupid. I am the enemy after all.

She doesn't turn around when she says, "I'll be in the bathroom. Try anything and I'll shoot you in both feet this time."

Not waiting for a response, she steps into the other room.


	3. Chapter 3

Tris' POV

I let the water wash away all of the conflicting emotions I've been dealing with since I woke up. How can I hate Eric, but also feel sympathetic towards him?

He didn't react the way I expected him to. I thought he'd be cruel, difficult, yet so far he's been easy to handle. It could be a trick to make me think he's going to cooperate and then strike when I least expect it; though it would be difficult to strike in his current condition.

I just need to be careful. I need to keep my guard up.

I throw on a t-shirt shirt and pants, towel my hair dry, and open the door back to my room.

He's right where I left him. He says nothing, but he watches me quietly. Even hurt, he reminds me of a lion waiting to pounce on its prey.

"Are you hungry?" I ask him.

"No," he replies shortly.

"Suit yourself," I say, making a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" he calls out at the last minute.

I pause at the threshold, turn my head to look at him, and say, "To get food."

"You're going to leave me here?" He seems to be both worried and surprised.

I raise my eyebrows in question. "Is that a problem?"

"I think I'm hungry after all," he says.

His mood swings are going to give me whiplash. One minute he's being stubborn and defensive and then the next, he's easy going.

"Okay. I'll be back with your food."

"Be quick about it," he says in a commanding voice.

He's going to pay for that comment.

* * *

"You're making him eggs," Christina says again.

"Yes," I say, scooping the food onto a plate.

"Why?" she asks incredulously.

"Because he's hungry, Christina. I'm not going to make him starve."

I get it. I completely understand why everyone hates him. However, their attitude is starting to annoy me. The voice inside my head tells me I'm being irrational. Everyone's only behaving the way Eric would behave towards _them_. Yet don't we claim to be better than him?

"He deserves for us to let him starve," she mumbles.

"Maybe," I say, "but maybe you need to remember what you deserve."

I refrain from mentioning the men, women, and children she murdered, but I don't think I have to. I think she understands what I'm not saying perfectly.

I'm not trying to be cruel. Christina is my friend and I don't want to hurt her. I just feel like I'm surrounded by people who are condemning everyone they believe to be evil. And lately, that word has become subjective.

In Jeanine's eyes, I'm evil, I'm a threat to her world. But am I really evil? I might be...but I don't think I am.

"I need to get back," I say, leaving her intense stare behind.

On the way back to my room, people glare at me as if I'm the traitor. I'm starting to understand what Evelyn meant. These people want blood, specifically Eric's. It makes me wonder how badly they want it. How far will they go to make that want a reality?

How far will I go to protect him?

"What took you so long?" Eric asks me as soon as I enter my room again.

"If you want the food, then you're going to need to work on your attitude," I say.

To prove my point, I plop myself down on my new bed, and start digging into my plate. I resist the urge to check his reaction, but I can imagine his frustration.

There must be a little bit of evil in me because I'm finding enjoyment in this. He deserves to be humbled. He deserves to pay, even in such a small way, for all the pain he's put me through.

I hear him huff angrily. "Okay. Can I please have some food?" he asks.

"Try again," I say, shoving another mouthful of fluffy eggs into my mouth.

I do look at him this time. If he weren't severely hurt, I'd be worried. He's got that look on his face. The one that means he's angry and ready to fight. Since he's on his back, I think I'm safe from his temper. At least physically.

"Would you be so kind as to let me have some of those delicious eggs you made, Tris?"

He says it with such false, sugary sweetness, I laugh. He really must be hungry to play along. I half expected him to refuse and just lay there with a gnawing stomach.

"Since you asked nicely," I say, grinning.

I try to recall the last time I laughed or smiled. Not since the day Dauntless waged war against a defenceless faction. Not since my parents died, leaving me behind in this crazy world.

I've no idea why, but the anger clouding his expression fades. "How am I supposed to eat lying down?" he asks abruptly.

"I'll help you," I say, putting my plate aside.

His body tenses noticeably when I help maneuver him into a sitting position. He handles the pain he must be feeling well. He almost acts as if he doesn't have an injury.

"I don't need your help, Stiff."

"Don't be ridiculous," I say. "You need my help because I'm the only one willing to give it."

"I can get by on my own," he insists.

"You think so? You think you can get out of this bed? And if you somehow manage that, you think the people in this city will ever let you walk out of here alive?"

I shake my head. "They won't."

"So I'm a dead man," he says, face furious. "I'm living on limited time. I'm not an idiot," he says fiercely. "I know these people want me dead."

"Then you should also know you need help. I was told to take care of you, and I plan to do just that."

I consider what I'm about to tell him. I wonder if it's wise to show my hand before I see his, but if he trusts me that might work in my favor.

"I didn't have to accept this task," I say quietly. "Evelyn, our leader, would have killed you if I hadn't of stepped in."

I leave out the part where Evelyn seems to want me dead as well. For now, all he needs to know is that I don't necessarily wish him any ill will, which is more than I can say for everyone else.

* * *

Eric's POV

To say I'm surprised would be an understatement. Why would she save me? Twice now...

"Why would you help me?" I ask.

She looks back at me. "Because it felt wrong not to," she says.

"That doesn't make any sense," I exclaim. "I've done nothing to make the choice of saving my life seem right."

I watch her eyes widen slightly in what looks like surprise. Then she chuckles. "Yeah, I know. That doesn't mean you deserve to die. In my opinion, you deserve a second chance," she says.

A second chance. For what? My life already has a set path. I can't just change who I am. And who's to say I need a second chance? Who's to say I'm in the wrong?

"And what if I don't want one?" I ask her, my head cocked in challenge.

My comment doesn't seem to concern her because she just sits down on my bed, silently handing over the plate of food.

"Eat slow, or you'll throw up," she says.

"You didn't answer my question," I say, around a mouthful of eggs.

"I think you do. Somewhere deep inside," she replies softly, watching me eat. "You just said saving your life didn't make sense. You wouldn't have said that if you were beyond redemption. A truly evil person believes they deserve life, Eric. They feel entitled to it because they see themselves as gods who fix the 'wrong' in the world."

"I am evil," I say firmly.

She needs to see me for what I am. My heart is dark. My intentions are never pure. I've traveled down this path for so long, all other roads have been blocked off to me. So she's wrong: I'm not redeemable.

"You've done bad things," she corrects. "I've done bad things too."

I don't really believe that. Tris is one of the few truly good people I know.

"Does that make me evil?" she asks me.

She's really asking me. The question isn't rhetorical. Those dark green eyes of hers are searching mine for an answer. Searching, probing into my very soul like my response is what she needs to lay whatever demon is haunting her to rest.

"I'm Divergent," she continues suddenly. "Do you really believe I deserve to die because of that? Does that make me a true threat to the world?"

She's destroying my walls. There's something about her that drives me crazy, but not in a bad way. When she left to get food, I wanted her to come back so I could be near here. When she pressed her chest to mine to sit me up, I worried she'd feel my accelerated heart rate due to her proximity. When she smiled at me, something inside of me came to life.

She's saved me when no one else cared to. She's offered me a second chance because she thinks I deserve one.

I think back to everything Jeanine ever told me about Divergents. I was told they'd be uncontrollable, ruthless, a threat to non-Divergents...

I was told we had to strike before they attacked us. I shot a man in the forehead because I believed her words to be true. I let my base nature rule me because it made it easier to watch the life seep out of his eyes. Now I wonder if I'm fighting for the right side...Or maybe I'm fighting against the wrong person.

"You aren't evil," I say.

It's the truth, no matter what Jeanine has said. It's one of the only things I can believe in anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Tris' POV

"How is he doing?" Evelyn asks.

"He's recovering," I reply.

"I hope he heals soon," she says. "The people are antsy. His presence here worries them."

"I would like to discuss that. What if we didn't have a trial? What if we integrated him into our society without one?" I suggest.

She waves her hand dismissively. "That's not possible."

I swallow my anger. "I believe it could be possible if we give him a chance."

"A chance to what, Tris? A chance to betray us once we've lowered our defenses?"

"I've spent four days with him," I say. "He's had numerous opportunities to hurt me, and he hasn't. That has to mean something."

"He could very well be setting you up." She gives me a hard glare. "How have you survived this long being so naive and foolish?"

I push up from the chair I've been sitting in. I lean across her work station. "I've survived because I'm smart. I do what has to be done. And unlike you, I don't run away when the going gets hard."

"I did what I had to do," she replies, voice dangerously calm.

I'm sick and tired of Four's mother. She's not someone I can follow; she's not a leader I'd die for. For now, she's all I got, but the first chance I get, I'm going to put Evelyn Johnson-Eaton in her place.

Right now though, I'll show her who I am with words. "You left your family because you're a coward," I sneer. "You didn't want to suffer, so you abandoned your helpless son because you only cared about yourself."

"How dare you-"

"I dare because I believe in the truth," I say. "You have no interest in the truth. You want to rule the world. Just. Like. Jeanine."

Her hand slams down on the wooden desk. "I am nothing like that woman."

The door opens, revealing a concerned Four. "What's going on in here?" he asks.

I glance his way, all the while feeling Evelyn's gaze focused on me. "We have a difference of opinion is all," she says serenely.

She doesn't want Four to see her for who she really is and he's so desperate for a parent, he's willing to ignore the red flags.

I'd be better off with Jeanine. At least she's honest about who she is and what her ultimate goals are. Evelyn though has a secret plan. I'm not sure what that plan is yet, but I'll figure it out sooner or later.

"I'll leave you to it," I say. There's nothing more to say.

"Just a minute," Evelyn says, halting my progress.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Eric has one week. At the end of the week, we'll hold his trial whether he's able to attend or not," she says.

My head whips around. Her dark eyes are filled with malicious victory. "He won't be healed in time," I try to reason.

"That's too bad."

I should go over and rip that self-satisfied grin right off her angular face. I should tear her to pieces, exposing the rotten, decaying filth she is. I don't though.

I walk out.

* * *

"What's your favorite color?" Eric questions me from the bed.

"Green," I say.

Throughout our time together, he has taken to asking me random, seemingly unimportant questions. When I asked him why he cared, he told me he didn't, but that he was bored and needed something to do.

"What kind of green? Are we talking puke green, grass green...?"

He never quits. "Hunter green," I reply.

"Why did you choose Dauntless?" Is his next question.

"Why did you?" I counter.

"It was what my aptitude test revealed I was fit for," he tells me simply.

"I didn't have that luxury," I murmur.

"What factions did your test say you showed aptitude for?" he asks curiously.

"Abnegation, Erudite, and Dauntless," I tell him.

"I don't understand," he admits. "I can't imagine being able to be three different things and feeling complete." He doesn't say it unkindly.

I smile. "I can't imagine being just one thing and feeling complete. Comes with being Divergent."

"Jeanine's afraid of people like you because she doesn't understand you," he says after a moments pause.

"And you? Are you afraid of people like me?" I ask.

He bows his head, hiding his eyes from my prying ones. "I'm afraid of what the Divergents have planned for those like me. Divergents are like the opposite side of the same coin."

"You don't trust our motives?" I ask for clarification.

"I wonder what the Divergents want to see happen. And I wonder what they plan on doing to the non-Divergents if and when they ever succeed," is his answer.

I nod in understanding. In all honesty, he should be worried.

"But," he goes on, "I'm not afraid of _you_."

* * *

Eric's POV

I never thought I'd be able to trust anyone, let alone someone like her. But I do. My instincts don't warn me to guard and protect myself from her. On the contrary, I have this desire to be more open and honest when I'm around her.

All of this is new to me. The need to know someone as much as, or more than I know myself has never happened to me before. When she's in the room I can't prevent the questions from spilling out of my mouth. And her answers fascinate me.

"I'll go get our dinner," she says abruptly.

I realize I might have scared her with my confession, or maybe she thinks I'm lying. Either way, I silently watch her stride out the door, away from me.

What I've been feeling these past few days doesn't makes any sense to me. I have no words to describe it and I'm not sure what I want. I've been at war with myself. One minute I want her with me and then the next minute I want her to leave.

I ignore the small voice whispering in my ear that I never want her to leave, I'm just scared having her near will ruin me somehow. I'm scared of how dependent I am on her already. I'm even more scared that it hardly bothers me except when I'm by myself.

A knock on the door tears me from my thoughts. It's a courtesy knock that says whoever's on the other side is coming in whether you want them to or not.

No one's been here except Tris, and Tris wouldn't knock.

The door swings open. The boy with the eye patch stands in the entryway. Edward. His name is Edward. The kid Peter stabbed in the eye with a butter knife. I remember because Peter still brags about it.

I stiffen when my eye catches the weapon he has gripped in his hand. It's a beautiful throwing knife: black, stainless steel; the blade curving to a sharp point. One small prick and it would have its victim bleeding.

I lock eyes with him, observing him warily as he steps inside the room, shutting the door quickly and quietly behind him.

"I've been waiting for her to leave you alone," he says.


	5. Chapter 5

Edward's mouth twists into a gruesome smile. "It's good to see you again," he says cheerfully.

I say nothing and he laughs. "It's okay. I get it. I wouldn't be happy to see me if I were you either," he comments, his voice turning dark.

He flips the knife into the air, catching it neatly by the handle. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."

Walking till he's at the end of the bed, he says, "I'm here for closure."

My hands clench into fists by my sides. I know what will happen if I try to get up. The pain will become too much. I won't be able to defend myself, I won't be able to get away.

"You see, when I lost my eye I felt like my world had ended," he says, plunging the knife into the mattress, right between my feet. "I was partially blind, factionless..." he trails off.

He shakes his head, holding my gaze. "It was hell really. Thankfully, I'm a survivor. A survivor who needs closure so he can move on with his life."

His grin is manic. "I was hoping for Peter," he whispers confidentially.

I could laugh at our role reversal. Edward has the power to do to me what he will, and I'm on my back helpless to his every whim. Despite that, I'm not going to play his game. He's on his own.

"You have nothing to say?" he asks.

My lack of cooperation is getting to him. Whatever he'd fantasized would happen must not be coming to fruition.

Good. That's good.

"Always so tough," he murmurs. "Never one to lose gracefully, were you?"

He picks the knife back up, ambles his way to my side, slowly dragging the blanket down my chest.

"Now that's a pretty sight," he says, weapon pointing to the row of stitches keeping my skin pulled together.

He hums lightly. "But think of how much prettier it would be if I did this."

Without giving me a chance to even wrap my head around what's happening, he cuts open the first stitch. My breath hitches, my stomach muscles contract painfully.

"What did I ever do to you?" I manage to spit out.

"You showed no mercy. My entire life was destroyed and you said, 'Tough luck'."

Face contorted in fury, he plucks open another stitch. My blood begins to seep from the opening Edward created.

I vaguely remember saying that. It would seem Edward hasn't forgotten.

I start to feel the pain acutely. I attempt to block it out, but every time I manage to get a grip on it, he tears open another stitch.

He's about halfway through and things must be boring him because he digs his pointer finger into the wound. I have no control over what I do in reaction to the pain.

I scream.

I lift up enough to cuff him in the jaw, but I'm weak and his head barely moves. I'm aware of him standing over me, anger written in every line of his face. I see him about to take a swing at me, and I flinch, bracing myself for the impact. Except it never comes.

Like an avenging angel, Tris storms into the room, gun drawn.

I feel out of it, like I'm in a dream I want to get out of but can't. All I know is that Tris is here, and everything's going to be okay.

* * *

Eric's a mess. He's shivering, sweating, and his blood is soaking through the sheets.

After punching Edward in the eye, Christina and Four ran in, taking him away. They'd heard the agonized scream and come running.

I'm still trembling from what I walked into. Seeing Eric in such agony nearly brought me to my knees.

I didn't realize how much I cared until I saw Edward torturing him. I didn't know he mattered so much to me. Now I do.

"Hey," I murmur, cataloguing the damage. He's going to need to be sewn up and fast.

There's no time to go running around the city in the hopes that someone will help me. I've got to do this myself.

I run to my dresser, quickly pulling out a needle and thread. I've never done anything like this before. I know how to sew buttons on shirts and patch up holes in socks, but using my limited sewing skills on a person is a whole other matter.

I rush back to him. His eyes are closed, his breathing labored.

"It's going to be okay," I tell him. "I'm going to patch you up."

He chuckles breathlessly. "Ever done anything like this before?" He asks.

"That hardly matters," I scoff, wanting to lighten the mood.

"Matters a little bit," he mutters.

"Want to do it yourself?" I challenge, needle poised.

He glances from me to the needle and back to me again. "I trust you."

That's good enough for me. My hand hardly shakes as I poke the needle through his flesh. Each pass leaves him more tense than the last. He's got to be in a lot of pain. I wish I had pain killers for him.

"One...good thing...about this. I'm going...to have a wicked scar," he pants.

I smile despite myself. It fades when I notice how tightly he's holding onto the bed. A spasm of pain contorts his face. I pause to grasp one white-knuckled hand in mine, drawing it to rest on my raised knee. It takes no further encouragement for him to squeeze gratefully.

"Thanks," he says.

"No problem," I reply, focused on the task at hand.

Almost there. Almost done.

His grip becomes painful all of the sudden. I look up to see him practically green in the face.

His eyes are panicked. "I don't feel so good," he tells me.

A second passes while I'm racking my brain for what could be wrong. And then it dawns on me.

I reach for the waste basket in the corner, holding it out to him, right when he vomits. He's gagging and his eyes are red from the forceful expulsion of losing all the contents of his stomach.

Throwing up, coupled with the serious injury located on his lower abdomen seems to be too much for him because he passes out. It's probably a good thing. He needs rest to recover.

My heart aches for him. I'm going to make Edward pay for even daring to touch him, let alone hurt him so badly. What Edward did is inexcusable, but I doubt I'm going to get Evelyn or anyone else to side with me.

I finish patching him up, working out in my head what I should do next. At some point I'm going to have to confront Edward. I'm going to have to come up with a game plan to keep Eric from being executed unjustly.

I can't seem to make myself leave his side though, so I don't. I clean him up, change the sheets, which is difficult when he's still in the bed. I even change his clothes, careful not to look more than I have to. I have this un-explainable, uncontrollable need to take care of him, make him comfortable.

Gently, I run my hand through his sweaty hair, making a promise to protect him, to keep him safe.


	6. Chapter 6

I've lost my mind. I've officially crossed one of those lines Four warned me about.

Earlier I walked into a group of people joking about what Edward did to Eric. I knew then I had to get him out.

I set up a meeting with Evelyn right after, pretending to have changed my mind about everything. I told her maybe Edward was justified in his actions. I told her a trial would be the best way to go after all. I told her I wasn't prepared to get in the way of my allies when they felt so strongly concerning Eric's fate.

I lied though my teeth. I needed her to believe I was on their side, so I could carry out my plan as easily as possible.

Now in the dead of night, I'm hot-wiring a truck the factionless stole from Amity awhile back. There were only two guards standing in my way, and both are now lying on the ground, unconscious, several feet away.

"This is crazy," Eric whispers, leaning heavily against the side of the truck. He looks like death.

"Yeah," I agree.

"You don't have to do this," he says for the thousandth time.

The car's engine roars to life. Yes.

"Get in," I say, pushing the gear stick into drive.

"Tris-"

"Get. In."

We don't have a lot of time. Someone close by could have heard the engine, or heard the guards being taken out. I got us this far, I'm not about to let Eric ruin our escape.

"Where are we even going to go?" he asks, settling into the seat, gingerly holding his stomach. I'm surprised he managed to walk out on his own, but he did without complaint.

"I'm taking you to Erudite," I say. "You're going to need medical attention, and they'll help you."

"But you-"

"Don't worry about me."

Truthfully, my plan only extends to getting Eric to safety. I have no idea what to do after I accomplish that goal. I don't know how I could stay with him, and I can't come back here. They'll have my head for the numerous crimes I've just committed.

"I am going to worry about you," he says through gritted teeth. "Jeanine will have you killed. They'll capture you and kill you."

"I'll just have to do my best not to get caught then," I reply cheekily.

"Not good enough. I'm not going to let you put yourself in danger for me," he argues.

"It's not your decision to make," I say calmly.

"Like hell it isn't," he mutters.

"Eric," I warn with a look.

Right now he isn't in any condition to fight me. He's weak and he's injured. He needs to let it go and let me do what I have to, and I have to save him. I don't know why I feel so strongly about it, but I know if I let Evelyn execute him, I'll lose a crucial part of myself. I've lost enough already; no more.

"I don't deserve this," he murmurs.

"It doesn't matter. This isn't about what you deserve or don't deserve," I say. "This is about doing what I think is right."

"Divergents never make any sense," he replies, frustration evident on his drawn face.

"We keep things interesting though, right?" I tease, giving him an amused grin.

"I won't be able to protect you," he says, his tortured eyes staring into mine.

"I'm not asking you to."

"Damn it, Tris!" he yells. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you. There's got to be another way."

I let loose the breath I've been holding. "There's not," I say.

* * *

Eric's POV

I shouldn't have left our room. I _should have_ refused to leave when she first presented her idea, but the thought of being free from the factionless, blinded me to the consequences. Now I realize the cost of my freedom is too high. I'm not willing to pay the price.

My brain races with ways I can keep Tris from Jeanine. No one will be willing to hide her. Unless we could find Caleb first? Caleb's her brother. Surely, he would want her to stay safe. But how could we reach Caleb before anyone else sees us? I have no idea where he might be, so it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

She's so determined to help me, she's completely forgotten about herself. No, it's worse than that. It's like she doesn't even care what could happen to her.

We're getting closer to our destination. Everything is happening too fast, too soon.

"Stay in the truck," I command when I make out the tall stone building's looming up ahead. "I'll get out by myself. Leave," I say as firmly as I can.

It's the last thing I want. I want her with me, so I can keep her close, but where she's taking me makes that desire impossible.

Her hands grip the steering wheel. "How will you tell them you escaped?" she asks.

"I'll say I did what I had to do. They'll assume I took out anyone who got in my way."

It's hard to tell, but I think she's weighing the pros and cons. I don't know where she will go; I just know she can't stay anywhere near here. The risk is too high.

I sink down into my seat, relieved, when she nods.

She slows the truck down once we're parallel to the Millennium. The library is where I'll go. I'll make it to Jeanine's office where her men constantly guard the door.

I look around the immediate area, seeing no one. This might work.

I turn in my seat to face her. She looks unearthly with the moonlight hitting her face just so. I grin at the thought because it's far too romantic for someone like me to think up.

"Thank you," I say earnestly.

"No, thank you," she murmurs. "I think you can be more than who you allow yourself to be. I know it actually. Do what's right, Eric," she says, her voice kind.

She's not human. She's not of this world. This level of selflessness feels so very different from what I've seen from even Abnegation. She really is an angel. So wise, so smart. So, so, so, beautiful.

"I will," I tell her, and I mean it. Her sacrifice won't be in vain.

"Good," she replies, grinning. "Take care of yourself."

Opening the car door feels more like trying to move a mountain. I really don't want to leave her. My heart plummets, grounding me to the seat. I pause. I flex my fingers around the handle.

I step down into the wet grass. I'm closing the door.

Two gunshots echo throughout the night, making direct hits to the front and back tires of the truck.

"Hello, Eric."

Peter.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're alive," he says, sounding almost...disappointed?

"I am," I agree.

Peter peers into the passenger's side window. He whistles. "And would you look at that. You brought us a Stiff."

"Why are you here?" I ask.

He smirks at me. "I had a report for Jeanine. I was just on my way back." He rolls back on his heels. "Lucky I caught you, huh?"

"Lucky," I say, nodding.

Both of us are playing a game, waiting to gain the upper hand. He's behaving strangely. He's not acting intimidated by me; he's acting more like he's the one in charge.

"Thanks for bringing her in," Peter says, nodding his head towards Tris. "Jeanine will be happy."

He makes his way to Tris' door. "Leave her alone," I demand stupidly.

He freezes, slowly turns away from the car to face me, "Sorry?"

I think fast. "It's part of the deal," I explain. "The factionless let me go, but I had to promise I would leave the Stiff unharmed."

"And since when do we make deals with the rejects?" he asks.

"I wanted to get out of there alive," is what I say in explanation. "I thought it best to agree to their terms."

"And why would they allow you to come back alive? I thought for sure they'd kill you," he says suspiciously.

"Is that why there weren't any rescue parties?" I ask bitterly.

"Answer the question."

"I let them think I'd reformed," I say, laughing sarcastically. "I told them I'd play spy for them."

"And they trusted you?"

I snort derisively. "They're desperate."

He contemplates me silently, not looking entirely convinced. Then, he says, "We should have some fun with her first. Serve 'em right for ever thinking you'd change sides."

I can see Tris sitting still in the driver's seat, her eyes glued to Peter's form. It's too dark to tell if she's scared or not.

"No, we need to honor the deal," I reply authoritatively.

Peter's eyes search my face. "The Eric I know wouldn't hesitate to teach the factionless a lesson."

"I'm being smart," I tell him.

"I think you've gone soft," he replies quietly. "Did you develop feelings for the Stiff, or something?"

The question isn't serious. It's meant as a joke, but now that Peter's said it, I can see the truth in the question. I've been confused as to why I want too be near her all the time, why I have this undeniable need to protect her. It's because I have feelings for her.

Peter wastes no time in opening Tris' door, dragging her from the truck by her arm.

"Long time no see," Peter says, his grip hard and unyielding. "Miss me?" he asks her.

Tris doesn't reply.

"I said, leave her alone."

I take a step towards the pair, but Peter pushes the barrel of his gun against her temple, digging it in viciously. "You seem to have lost your touch, Eric," Peter exclaims loudly. "And it would appear it's the Stiff's fault."

"Peter," I snap. "Stop."

Peter smiles, sticks his face in Tris', and drags his nose along her cheek. "She smells pretty good," he comments, inhaling deeply.

I'm going to be sick. Deciding I've seen more than enough, I take another step in their direction.

"One more step, and I'll blow her head off," Peter threatens. "You know what I'm going to have to do now, don't you?" he asks me.

"No? Let me clue you in. I'm going to have to kill you both," he says matter-of-factly. "You're fighting to save the enemy, Eric." His head shakes in disappointment.

"I only want to honor the agreement that was made," I reply.

This is not a threat. Peter doesn't threaten, he just does.

"Exactly," he says. "Stiff is going to get to see those pathetic parents of hers again though, so happy ending, right?"

Her face twists into something painful. Whereas before she'd been fairly complacent, she moves into action, ramming an elbow into Peter's gut. He barely even shifts, but it's enough for her to slip out of his hold, twisting his wrist in the process.

Peter recovers quickly, raising the gun to her chest. "You shouldn't have done that," he tells her, rage turning his features into the face of a monster. A monster that ascended from Hell, and needs to be returned to the fiery flames.

His finger is about to pull the trigger. I think I yell, but I'm not sure what. Maybe her name. Tris. Tris Prior. Not her. Please, not her.

My eyes can hardly process what they're seeing when she kicks her leg in a semi-circle, hitting his forearm, causing him to lose his grip on the gun. She doesn't hesitate to kick him again, this time in the stomach, propelling him backwards.

In a flash she has the gun, now aimed at him. "No, you shouldn't have messed with me," she says.

Peter's eyes are no longer confident. His mouth is open, his gaze glued to the revolver. "So what?" he rallies. "Going to kill me now?" The question is a snarl of a wounded animal that knows its end is near.

Tris' back is to me, so I can't read her as well as I'd like to. Her shoulders are set, but her hands shake slightly. And then I understand why she's hesitating. She doesn't want to be the person who pulls the trigger, ending Peter's miserable existence. She doesn't want to deal with that guilt.

I close the distance between us. I gently rest my hand between her shoulder blades.

Peter's frantic eyes lands on me. "You can't let her do this," he says. "I'm one of you!" he yells.

He's wrong. I'm not like him. Not anymore. Thanks to the girl beside me.

I gently remove the gun from Tris, prepared to do what has to be done.

"I should have made sure you were dead," he says bitterly.

My mind is screaming that he's just buying himself more time. Then again, I feel like I should listen, like maybe he's telling the truth.

"What are you talking about?" I ask impatiently.

"I was the one who stabbed you. I made you think Divergents were nearby, to get you alone."

He grins maliciously. "It was almost too easy. I left you for dead thinking the factionless would finish you off if you lasted long enough for them to find you."

Peter stabbed me. My subordinate stabbed me in the gut, leaving me for dead.

"Why?" I ask him, confused as to why he would harm someone he considered an ally. And we were allies. Peter hated Divergents more than I did. It was the only thing we had in common.

"You were standing in my way. I wanted to be on top, but that would never have happened as long as you were alive. It worked rather well," he says, chuckling. "Jeanine is fond of you, it turns out. She's planning on avenging your death, so the rejects will meet their end sooner than we had anticipated."

"Why can't he remember?" Tris asks, finally speaking up.

Peter laughs brightly. "That's the best part! Erudite came up with an amnesia serum of sorts. Makes people forget at least a days worth of memories."

I've heard enough.

"Don't!"

Tris' hand covers mine. She looks up at me. She shakes her head, "Don't."

"It's the only way he won't become a problem later on," I reason. "You can't drive the truck; he blew the tires out. To give us some time we need to end this, end him."

"Each kill, each murder, Eric, changes us. Would it be so wrong to show mercy?"

At the expense of our lives? Yes. But I promised her I would do the right thing. I'm not sure what the right thing is. What I do know is that I trust her judgement over my own.

"What do you suggest we do then?" I ask.

"Knock him out and start walking," she says.

"That's not much of a plan," I reply.

"No one will come after us," she points out. "He framed the factionless already. He won't tell Jeanine the truth."

Glancing up at the night sky, she says, "And we have a few hours of dark left. Maybe we can find somewhere to hide."

"Or," she continues quietly. "Or you can kill him, tell Jeanine the truth, and I'll go on by myself. It's your choice."

She doesn't know it yet, but there is no choice. There never has been because the line has always been drawn; It just took me awhile to realize I'm on her side.


	8. Chapter 8

We've been trudging along for two hours, nothing but barren wasteland all around us.

Eric's arm is thrown over my shoulders for support. He's been hiding his discomfort for the past few miles. I can easily see through the act.

"Let's rest," I suggest.

"We need to cover more ground."

He's huffing and panting, and he's being silly.

"We _need_ to rest," I reply firmly.

I stop walking, plop down on the dead, dry grass, bringing Eric down next to me. I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. Sleep is sounding its sweet siren call, but I resist. For just a few minutes.

"Let's take a look at those stiches," I say, moving to push his shirt up.

Everything, miraculously enough, looks pretty good considering. None of the stiches have broke free, so that's good. We're going to be okay, I tell myself. Somehow, someway, we're going to make it.

"The ground is hard," he grumbles.

Smiling, I say, "The ground usually is. Now lay down," I order.

He's does, laying on his back. "It's cold," he says softly.

It is. I've got on a light jacket, but it isn't protecting me from the cool night air very well. Luckily, I'm exhausted enough not to care.

I lie beside him, staring up at the stars. "Hey," he whispers.

"Yeah?" I question, turning to him.

"You're shivering," he murmurs.

"Well, it is cold," I reply.

"I've heard...sharing body heat helps," he says, face uncertain, eyes cautious.

Oh.

"Yeah?" I manage to inquire.

"Yeah," he says.

I can't. There's a part of me that wants to, but I can't because he's offering more than just his warmth; he's offering himself. I can see it in the way he holds my gaze. He's reaching out to me and I _just can't._ I'm not ready, I'm better off guarding my heart deep inside my chest, away from anyone who has the power to break it.

The people I love always end up leaving me. My mother, my father...Will. I can't stand to lose anyone else. That's why I need to keep my distance. I need to run from the feelings he inspires in me before it's too late. Before he's won my heart and soul and there's no going back.

"Actually I think I'm good," I say quietly.

I turn on my other side, facing away from him. I don't want to see his reaction to my rejection. I don't want to see him hurt. I care too much and that's my problem. I've come to rely on him more than I should.

When he used the butt of the gun to render Peter unconscious, I felt so relieved I could hardly remain upright. That move showed me he had changed. The old Eric wouldn't have hesitated to kill anyone who dared to cross him.

I knew then that I was falling for him. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I could _love_ him if I let myself. I could and would follow him anywhere he led...

I can't think about that now. I need sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day.

* * *

Eric's POV

I'm warm. After spending a night freezing on the cold, hard ground, it's a pleasant feeling.

Part of it is the sun hitting my face and body, but there's a warm, solid presence on my left side, pressed tight against me.

My smile is wide.

Tris.

I squint against the bright sun, the light too bright for my sleep-filled eyes. I glance down at Tris. She's got an arm thrown over my waist and a leg tossed over both of mine. Her face is resting on my chest.

This is the first time I've ever been held by someone. I've never experienced this kind of closeness with another human being before. My lifestyle didn't allow me to get close to anyone. No one really wanted to anyway.

I was the heartless leader for Dauntless. I was the kind of person people avoided because they thought me to be cruel. And I was. I was all of the things they accused me of being.

Now I'm different and its left me adrift. I have so many overwhelming emotions slamming into me, I'm lost as to how to deal with them. That's why I need her. I need Tris. I need this feeling of having someone. I need to wake up like this _everyday._

The sound of an engine drags me from my thoughts. An engine means there's a car and a car means there's people.

I lift my head, searching. It's coming from my right. It's a large truck. And it's heading our way.

There's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

I pick myself up, waking Tris up in the process.

"What's happening?" she asks.

"Someone's coming."

She jumps up. I pull the gun from the waistband of my pants. It's a useless move, but I push Tris slightly behind me. It's instinctual. She can handle herself just fine. Last night proved just how far she's come. I just can't lose her if I can help it.

We watch the trucks slow approach. We wait. We stand strong.


	9. Chapter 9

Tris' POV

The truck keeps coming. I've never seen one like this. It's much larger than any of the others and its black. I make out two people sitting in the front. From this distance it's hard to tell, but I'm fairly certain I've never seen them before.

They stop directly in front of us. A man and a woman step out.

"Hello," the woman says in greeting. She has tattoos covering every inch of her skin from the neck down. Her hair is fiery red, her face is covered in freckles. "My name is Jen. And this is Amar," she introduces, gesturing to the man beside her.

He's tall with beautiful dark skin. His eyes are hazel and his features are solemn. "Hello," he says.

Eric hasn't moved an inch. He's staring at Amar as if he's seeing a ghost.

"You're supposed to be dead," Eric says, voice gruff.

"We have a lot to discuss," Amar replies stoically.

"If you come with us, we will explain everything," Jen steps in, face open and kind.

Eric takes a step backwards, taking me with him. "We aren't going anywhere with you," he replies.

"I see you haven't changed," Amar remarks. "Just as rebellious as ever."

"You don't know me," Eric spits out.

"On the contrary," Amar says, "I've been watching you, Eric. I have seen who you've become. I can't say I'm surprised."

What was that supposed to mean? He's been watching Eric? How?

"Who are you?" I ask.

The woman, Jen, places a slender hand on Amar's shoulder. "We are people who only want to help you. You can trust us," she says.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" I question.

Jen shrugs. "You can't know for sure. You are running out of options though, Tris. You and Eric will die out here without provisions."

Two thoughts crowd my mind. This woman is a stranger to me, and yet somehow she knows my name. Also, she's right. Eric will need medicine and we have no food to survive. There's nowhere to go.

I look up at Eric. He's marble, he's a stone statue. He knows Amar and from his attitude, their history together isn't a pleasant one. He obviously distrusts these people, but what other choice do we have? They know things and I'm curious to find out how they know them.

I look to Jen. "We'll go with you," I say.

The other woman smiles softly. It's a smile I feel like we can trust. I hope I made the right decision. If not...the cost will be our lives.

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Eric tells me, sitting defensively in the the back of the truck. Arms crossed, feet spread wide, he cuts an intimidating figure. A very unhappy, intimidating figure.

"She's right though. We couldn't survive out in the wilderness for long," I tell him gently.

"We can't trust them, Tris." He bows his head. He sighs, and says, "Amar was my instructor when I was an initiate."

Eric's instructor. I try to imaging Eric during initiation. I think up several different versions of Eric during that time. I can imagine a scared, young man, wanting to succeed. I can see an angry, bitter boy who wanted to be the very best. Only he wasn't. Four was always one step ahead.

"Why did you think he was dead?" I ask.

"We were told he was dead. Except he isn't," he says in confusion.

I take in the scenery: old buildings, cracked pavement, broken down telephone poles. The remains of an abandoned city.

"I take it you and Amar didn't see eye to eye," I say, watching him closely.

Eric smirks, the spark of his old cruelty shining through his dark, hardened irises. "You could say that."

"Tell me," I encourage, scooting closer to press our sides together.

The move must have surprised him because his eyes widen momentarily. Then his face softens and the coldness thaws from his eyes. "He didn't like me. I wasn't what he wanted me to be. My actions often disappointed him. Four was his star student," he tells me, chuckling bitterly.

"I see," I say

I really do. Four and Eric are more similar than many might think, but I spent a lot of time observing them during my time in Dauntless. Both are strong, relentless. Both are natural leaders. The only difference is that Four is much better when it comes to hiding the coldness that resides in him. He can imitate compassion, mercy, and even forgiveness when the situation calls for it. It makes Four more likable, more relatable.

"I don't know how he's alive, but I know he doesn't approve of me. And I try not to make a habit of relying on anyone who might wish me ill will," Eric says.

"We're in this together," I remind him. "Whatever their intentions, we're in this together. You're not alone."

He reaches for the hand closes to him and squeezes. "I like the sound of that," he says.

The car stops then, and Jen hops out.

"We're here," she announces.

I wonder how I missed the fence that surrounds the entire area. It's so tall, and the barbed wire on the top would be enough to prevent anyone from coming in...or getting out.

We're in some kind of military compound. A large sign in front says _Bureau of Genetic Welfare._ Behind the fence there are dozens of buildings all labeled different things. And there are people everywhere, walking and talking. Some stop to stare at us and I feel Eric stiffen next to me. I keep hold of his hand as we jump down from the bed of the truck.

"Welcome," Amar tells us. "We know this must be confusing for you both, but we ask that you cooperate with us and stay patient. All of your questions will be answered."

He stares at Eric pointedly. Amar's distrust, while perhaps understandable, grates on my nerves. If he's been watching Eric, then he should know he isn't the same boy he once knew.

"I'm sure we have nothing to worry about, Amar," Jen says, grinning over her shoulder at us. "We have to go through security first, and there your weapons will be taken."

"No," Eric says.

"I'm afraid you have no choice. Our purpose isn't to harm either of you," she reassures. "It's merely to ensure our people's safety. You are worried you can't trust us. _We_ are concerned we can't trust _you_."

"Then why bring us here?" Eric demands angrily.

"Because we saw that you were in need of aid," she replies.

"Eric," I murmur.

He looks down at me and I know his Dauntless mind is sending off a thousand warning flags. Our weapons are our only means of protection and to give that up, in his mind, is suicide. I can understand how he feels because those same flags are flying around in my head as well, but I can also see their point.

"We have no choice," I tell him.

His jaw is clenched so tight I fear it might shatter. His hand grips mine. "Okay," he gives in.

We walk to the checkpoint, and I bend down to take the dagger out of my boot and the small pistol from my jacket. Eric only had the one gun, and he reluctantly sets it on the conveyor belt.

"I hope I don't live to regret this," he mutters, for my ears only.

I laugh. "Me too."

"Now," Jen says, "We'll show you what we do here. Follow me."

Eric visibly relaxes when Amar starts walking in the opposite direction. He watches as the man disappears around a corner.

"Together," I say.

He turns back to me. He nods. "Together."


	10. Chapter 10

"You're telling me I'm damaged?" Eric's voice thunders throughout the control room.

"You're not Divergent," David says, as if that's answer enough.

Eric walks out.

"Wait!" David calls out.

"He needs time," Jen says. She glances at me sympathetically. "It's a lot to take in. You can go after him. I'll show you to your rooms later."

I nod gratefully and run after Eric. It doesn't take long to catch up to him, despite how quickly he's walking.

"I need to be left alone," he says angrily.

I jog to keep up. He might think he needs to be left alone, but he's wrong. What we've just learned is earth shattering. For him especially, because he just learned his nature is to be hard and cruel, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"You're not damaged," I tell him.

He rounds on me. "The leader just made it pretty clear I am."

"He's wrong," I say. "You might struggle with being cruel, Eric, but you don't have to be that way. These past few days have proven you can be different. It might be difficult, but you can choose to be better."

"You really believe that?" he asks hotly.

I step closer to him, so close I can feel how he practically vibrates with constrained energy. "I do. Now you need to believe it too. Screw being Divergent. Screw being _genetically healed._ You are more than your genes," I say. "You're Eric, the man who spared Peter, the man who has stuck by my side when it would've been so much easier to walk away."

His breathing turns ragged. His eyes burn with a fire that will consume me if I'm not careful. He falls into me, his arms encircling my waist. "Help me," he whispers in my ear.

He bends to rest his forehead on my shoulder. "Help me when I lose my way," he says.

"Always," I promise.

Always and forever, and even past that. I'll help him in any way I can, for as long as I can.

I listen to the beating of his heart. It's enough to ground me. Too soon, he raises his head. "Okay," he says, taking a deep breath.

A throat clears behind us. "David wanted me to make sure everything's okay," Jen says, giving us an apologetic look.

"You mean he wanted to make sure I didn't do anything harmful in my anger?" Eric asks sarcastically.

"He believes you to be unstable," she admits. "You're a high risk in his opinion."

She's honest.

"Am I going to be allowed to stay here?" he asks.

"We don't believe in turning the genetically damaged away. It isn't your fault you are the way you are," she says.

Eric stays quiet with his eyes glued to the wall.

"You said something about showing us to our rooms," I remind her.

I don't want to hear anymore about how their science experiment went wrong. Eric doesn't need to hear anymore either.

"Yes, we have a room for you both," she says, smiling. "Follow me.

* * *

Eric's POV

The beds leave a lot to be desired. The only redeeming quality about our room is that no one else is occupying it.

"If you plan to stay, we will find somewhere more permanent for you," Jen says.

We have nowhere else to go, and if we did, I'd be there by now. This place isn't for me. I'm _less_ in their eyes because I'm not like them. My brain is obviously limited to being Dauntless and to them that's a weakness.

I used to be proud of my faction...

"Dinner's at 5," Jen says, shutting the door gently.

"I can't stop thinking about how they've been watching us," Tris comments, choosing the bed next to mine.

"Talk about creepy," I grumble.

"They saw everything," she murmurs. "They saw what me and those like me were going through and they did nothing."

"Like everyone else, they have an agenda, and it would seem their agenda doesn't include heroic rescue missions."

There are tears in her eyes when she looks at me. "My parents might be alive if they had just helped."

No one has ever wanted my comfort before, and Tris probably doesn't either, but I can't sit back and watch her be in pain.

"I'm sorry," I say, wrapping her up in my arms for the second time today.

"You once said it was wrong to miss our families, but I do," she says. "I miss them so much I can't breathe sometimes. It's a constant ache I'm learning to deal with. It never goes away though."

Her words break me. "I was wrong," I tell her. "I was selfish. I'm sorry."

I'm so sorry. And I'm frightened. Tris thinks I can make good choices, but I'm worried I won't. I'm worried I'll revert back to my old self. I'm worried I'll somehow end up hurting her.

I can't allow that to happen.

* * *

Eric's POV

The dining hall is silent. Faces are turned to us, their stares curious. I wonder how many of them know who we are.

Fingers grasp mine and I smile at Tris. She's been doing that a lot today. It's nice.

The line isn't long and we end up grabbing what the kitchen staff called spaghetti. It doesn't look appetizing, but it's all they have and I'm starving.

"Let's sit here," Tris suggests, setting her tray on a table in the corner.

It turns out that I like spaghetti. I'm able to eat despite everyone's eyes on us. I'm Dauntless and their opinions don't matter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a young man walk up to our table. "Hey," he says, awkwardly putting his hands inside his lab jacket.

"Hello," Tris replies.

"My name is Matthew. I work in the genetic department," he says. "I'd love to do some testing **on** you two if that would be okay. Fairly standard stuff. Nothing too invasive."

He's ignoring me in favour of Tris. His smile is just a little to wide, a little too bright. I don't like him.

"I'm okay with it," Tris says, grinning back at the stupid blonde.

"I am too," I say.

I'm not really, but there's no way in hell I'm going to leave Tris alone with this guy. He's eyeing her like she's his next meal.

"Fantastic," he exclaims, his blue eyes shining at Tris. _My_ Tris.

I glare at him as he leaves. "I don't trust him," I say.

"He seems nice enough," she replies, going back to her food.

Yeah, I definitely don't like him.


	11. Chapter 11

Eric's POV

It's still dark out when someone knocks on our door the next morning. I shuffle out of bed, frustrated that I have to get up when the wood floor is so cold and my body still yearns for sleep.

I throw it open, about to yell at whoever is on the other side, but it's Mathew. He looks too perfect with his slicked back hair and his pearly white teeth, gleaming at me from the shadows.

"Good morning," he says cheerfully. "I'm here to pick you guys up for those tests I mentioned yesterday."

"Just a minute," I say, shutting the door in his Ken doll face.

Tris is still asleep. I marvel at how peaceful she looks. Her bow shaped mouth is parted and I take a step back when I realize how badly I want to kiss her awake.

"Who was that?" she mumbles, sleep making her voice rough.

Startled, I say, "Matthew."

Rolling over, she stretches, and I can't look away from how her shirt slides up her stomach, exposing soft, smooth looking skin. Skin I suddenly want to touch.

I discreetly watch her as she runs her fingers through her short hair. "Turn around," she tells me, picking up her pants.

I do as she says with difficulty. I feel my body break out into a sweat with the need to turn back to her. In all honesty, I have been attracted to her for awhile now. It's just, right now, I _feel_ the need to taste her skin, to press my lips to hers.

 _Calm down. You'll scare her away._

 _"_ Okay," she says.

She's wearing a tank top, tight black pants, and boots. I should go to her and pull the straps of her shirt down, so I can brush my mouth against her porcelain skin without any clothes getting in my way. I should, but I can't.

I hate that she opens the door. I hate that Matthew gives her the once over, approval written all over his face.

I stride over to them. "Just how long is this going to take?" I ask, voice curt.

"Not too long," he says, barely sparing me a glance.

I take Tris' hand, shooting him a glare as I tug her out into the dimly lit hallway.

"Let's get on with it," I say.

* * *

Tris' POV

The room is bright. Clear cabinets line one wall. On the other side there are two hospital beds, side by side. There's a computer screen attached to the wall beside the bed closest to the door. The door is made of glass and I like that because it makes the room feel less cagey, less claustrophobic.

"So what's going to happen is that I'm going to inject you both with a serum that will be able to read your genes. It basically just tells me how healed or damaged your genes are," Matthew explains.

"You guys were pretty adamant that I'm not Divergent," Eric says, eying the needles warily.

"You're point being?" Matthew prompts, preparing a needle and syringe.

"Why inject me if you already know I'm not?" Eric asks.

"I'm curious _how_ damaged your genes are," Mathew replies. "From what I've seen of you, your personality is rather complicated. Or it has become complicated," Matthew corrects himself.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Growing up, you behaved exactly how we thought you would," Matthew says simply. "You showed signs of being one of the most destructive people we've seen in quite some time actually."

Matthew pauses to type something into the computer. "That is until you were stabbed," he says.

"What changed?" I ask, looking at Eric.

"You," Matthew says.

"Me?" I ask.

"Yes, someone with damaged genes tends to be worse in certain situations. For example, Eric was in a position of power, in a faction that thrives on bravery to the point of insanity. His nature is wired to be hard and cold, oftentimes emotionless. He wouldn't improve under those conditions."

"What does that have to do with me?" I ask.

"I think," Eric says, "he's saying that I changed because of your influence."

"Exactly!" Matthew agrees. "Our environment and the people around us play a huge part in who we become and who we stay."

I consider that.

"It's fascinating," Matthew breathes. "You changed to a degree we didn't think was even possible," he tells Eric. "Now are we ready?" He asks, holding up two needles.

Eric and I nod.

* * *

Eric's POV

I'm restless. I would go outside, but I don't want to leave Tris. Ever since Matthew took our samples, she has been quiet, closed off. She went directly to our room and laid down on her bed, not saying a word.

I followed her and have been staring at the ceiling for an hour. It's given me time to think. I've thought about how I got here. I've thought about how deeply I've come to care for Tris in such a short amount of time.

I turn my head to look at her. I've been quiet long enough. "What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Nothing's wrong," she says.

"I don't believe you."

Seconds turn into minutes.

"I guess everything that's happened in the past 24 hours is finally setting in," she says, sighing. "And..."

"And?" I prompt.

She laughs nervously. Sits up on her elbows. Looks down at the ground. "Have you really changed because of me?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," I reply honestly.

Her eyes seek mine. "Why?"

Because you're like no one I've ever known. Because you're beautiful - inside and out. Because you fought for me when no else did. "Because you're Tris Prior, and you're everything," I say.

She looks stricken and my heart stalls in my heaving chest. I've ruined everything.

"We can't...we can't be together," she stammers.

I continue to breathe. I don't break just yet.

"And why can't we?" I question her.

"Because! We have no idea what's going to happen, Eric. We're in the middle of a war. One of us could die and where would that leave the one left behind?" she asks, pleading for me to understand where she's coming from.

She cares. She's worried about losing me, or me losing her, but she still cares. And that's all that matters.

I roll off the bed, stalk to her side, and pick her up to stand before me.

"What are you doing?" she asks in surprise.

"What I should have done from the beginning," I say.

Gently, as gentle as I can manage, I run my hands down the length of her arms. I bend down to brush my lips against her collarbone, coming up to caress the line of her shoulders with my fingertips.

This is it. This is what I need to _live._ Her taste is my oxygen.

"Tris," I gasp.

Slowly, I drag my hands down her torso, stopping when I reach the bottom of her tank top. I let them wander up and under her shirt. She's warm and soft, and I'm dizzy from the sheer perfection that is Tris. It's too much. She's too much, but I won't stop. I'll never ever ever _stop._

I zero in on her lips, aching to close the short distance that's separating us. I check to see if she's okay with what I'm doing, but her eyes are focused on my lips and I do the only thing that makes sense - I kiss her.

It's soft and gentle. It's sweeter than candy. More beautiful than a sunrise. It's not enough. I pull away, instantly wanting to be where I was. Where I should be. But I have to say this.

"You're perfect. So utterly, completely...perfect."

And I kiss her again. I'm breathing like I've just run a race. I'm reeling from how she arches into me, from how she whimpers into the cavern of my mouth, breathing life into me.

I grasp the back of her neck, begging her for more. I'm desperate for her, for everything she's willing to offer. The kiss becomes unbearably urgent, and I pull her onto her bed, straddling her hips, careful not to crush her.

I wrench my mouth from hers, grab the hem of my shirt, and pull it up and over my head, leaving me bare-chested. I shift backwards until my mouth is right above her covered abdomen. Pushing her shirt up, I touch my lips to her stomach, making my way up and up and up.

"Eric," she moans.

I smile against her ribcage, grab hold of her clenched fists, thread our fingers together, and draw her arms over her head, pushing them into to the mattress.

"Stop," she whispers.

I freeze. I've gone too far. Pushed for too much, and hurt her in the process. No no no...

"I'm sorry," I gasp, stumbling off the bed.

Immediately, she reaches out to me. "No! I just..."

She's gorgeous with her short hair going in every direction, her lips red and swollen because of me.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she admits, her cheeks red from embarrassment.

I didn't hurt her, she's just nervous. "Yeah?" I ask smiling.

I love that she's inexperienced. It makes this even more special.

She pushes her shirt back down and sits up. "Yeah," she mumbles.

"I'm new at this too," I admit with a shrug. I'm not ashamed of it.

"You don't have to humour me," she says, staring at her hands.

Laughing, I settle down on the bottom of the bed, facing her. "I'm not," I say. "Believe it or not, I was pretty preoccupied with my duties and always being the best I could be back in Dauntless. And no one ever caught my eye. Until now."

"Oh," she says softly. "You didn't seem inexperienced."

"Yeah?" I ask.

She grins then. "Stop fishing for compliments."

"Only if you give this a chance," I say. "Don't shut me out."

She bites her lip, tempting me to bite it for her. "I want to go slow," she says.

I grin. "We'll do anything you want."

 **NOTE -** If this sucks feel free to let me know so I can try and make it better. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Tris' POV

At dinner that night, Jen stops at our table, eyes bright with excitement. "We have something prepared for you tomorrow," she says. "If you want, we can take you up in the airplane. It's a contraption that flies," she explains.

Eric's face light up. Something like this is right up his ally; it's in his DNA.

He grins. "That would be great," he says. "I don't suppose I'd get to fly it?"

Jen laughs. "Afraid not."

She leaves, and he looks at me. "You'll come too, right?"

"Of course," I reply.

His smile is happy. He has an electric smile, the type that everyone wishes they had for themselves. I decide he should always be smiling.

"Do you think you could learn to like it here?" I ask.

It's not Dauntless. He might come to miss his old home. If he decides to leave, I don't know what I'll do. I suppose it depends on what happens in the coming months. When the dust settles, Dauntless might not even exist.

"It's not that bad here," he says, picking at his food.

"You don't sound very convincing," I tease.

"A part of me will always miss my faction," he admits. "But honestly? I wouldn't go back. It's not what it once was."

"Nothing is meant to last," I murmur, glancing at the other people in the dining hall. These people will be gone in the blink of an eye, me along with them.

"I thought it was my job to be the pessimist," he says, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

"There isn't a lot to be optimistic about," I point out.

"I think there is. We're alive. We have each other. I'm floating on cloud nine right now, Tris, just because I'm with you."

He's been so earnest since our kiss. He's this completely different person, yet still the same.

"I don't follow Jeanine, Evelyn, or David," he says, cupping my cheek. "I follow you. You are the person I'll never stop fighting for. Do you know why?"

I shake my head.

"It's because you see things in a way no one else does. You are compassionate, brave, gentle, tough as nails, and you fight for what's right. That's so rare," he says softly.

"And what if I don't know what's right?" I ask.

"You always know, Tris. You just need to have faith in yourself."

* * *

Eric's POV

"Does going slow mean no goodnight kiss?" I ask, trying to look innocent from my perch on the bed, and trying not to be disappointed we're in separate beds.

I see her stifle a smile behind her hand. "I think a goodnight kiss could be arranged," she says.

I'm about to go to her, but she's standing before me, not giving me the chance to move. She bends down until she's level with my face, and gives me a soft peck, jumping back to climb into her bed.

I sit there, staring at her. Then, "Tease," I growl, getting up to lean over her.

"What's the problem?" she asks, eyes wide.

"That wasn't a kiss," I tell her, crawling on top of her.

"It w-wasn't?"

I smirk, keeping my lips mere inches from hers. "It wasn't," I whisper.

My lips press against hers lightly, but with purpose. I release her after a few seconds, kiss the corner of her mouth, and get off of her regretfully. She asked to go slow. My body definitely doesn't want slow, but I ignore the want flowing through my veins.

"Goodnight, Tris."

"Goodnight," she says.

* * *

"Are you sure you can do this?" I ask.

"You said you wanted a haircut," she replies patiently.

I did. I do. But I don't want a haircut that will make me look ridiculous.

"Yeah."

She sighs. "I stitched you up, remember? I recall you telling me you trusted me."

"You trim the top and shave off the sides," I instruct, ignoring her last comment.

"You said that. Like a million times. Relax. Breathe. It'll be fine," she says, her grin borderline evil.

I hear the snip of the scissors. I cringe. "Hair is really important," I mutter. "If it's uneven, my entire face will be out of wack."

Snip snip snip. "Who knew that the big, bad Eric cared so much about his looks?" Her tone is patronising and I can hear how much she's enjoying this.

"I'm not being vain," I say stubbornly.

"Of course not," she replies.

She groans in frustration. "Stop fidgeting, or I'm going to mess up."

I stay still, hoping it turns out okay. I really should stop complaining. _I_ was the one who asked for her to cut my hair after all. It isn't like I would trust anyone else with a deadly weapon so close to my jugular.

The scissors are replaced with the buzzing razor. "You need a shave too," she murmurs.

I've shaved so many times, I've lost count. None of those times felt like this. This is much more intimate than I had imagined it to be. Her face is right there, and those adorable freckles are begging to be kissed.

I close my eyes blissfully, my skin tingling from her touch. It's over far too soon, and I already find myself anticipating next time.

"There! It looks pretty good, I think. Take a look," she says, handing me a small mirror.

I look like me again. "Thank you," I rasp.

She beams at me, looking happier than I've ever seen her. "My mom used to cut my hair," she says, smiling through the tears filling her eyes.

Her fingers caress the side of my face. "I would be happy to cut your hair, anytime you want me to, Eric."

I stand up from the chair I'd been sitting in. I lean in until our foreheads are pressed together. I'm lost for words.

"Let's go ride an airplane," she says.

* * *

Four's POV (The morning after Tris and Eric went missing)

They're gone. More importantly - she's gone. Just like that.

How could she leave? I thought we were a team. I thought we understood each other. The Tris I know wouldn't leave without a word. And she took Eric with her. Along with a truck that didn't belong to her.

I have to tell Evelyn. She won't be happy.

She can join the club.

"Tris and Eric are gone," I say, bursting into her makeshift office.

She doesn't acknowledge my presence other than the stiffening of her shoulders. Her face doesn't turn from the window she's looking out of.

"What do you mean they're gone?" she asks.

"We can't find them anywhere, and one of the trucks are gone. Two men were knocked out last night. They said it was too dark to make out who it was."

I can't believe Tris left. With _Eric._

"Where could they possibly go?" She questions me, slowly making her way to her desk.

"I have no idea."

Her eyes narrow in anger. "This isn't good."

Eric must have threatened her. Yes, he forced her to help him escape. That makes more sense, than her leaving of her own free will. Tris is not a traitor.

"Tris isn't a traitor," I insist.

My mother's lips purse. "Her actions say otherwise."

"This has Eric written all over it," I say.

"You underestimate Tris."

"I _know_ her."

She laughs humorously. "Your feelings are blinding you to the truth, Tobias."

My body shakes with anger. Evelyn doesn't know Tris like I do. I was her instructor, I was the one she went to when she was worried someone would find out about her being Divergent. We bonded and were on our way to being together, but Eric stole her from me.

"I want to bring her back," I request.

"How do you plan on doing that?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"I'll take the other truck and search the area."

She looks at me thoughtfully. "This is important to you."

I nod. "Very."

"Alright," she says. Her smile is strangely eager. "Bring her back to us, Tobias."

"I will," I vow.

I'll bring her back where she belongs. And I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago - I'm going to kill Eric.


	13. Chapter 13

Eric's POV

"Take a seat!" Jen calls from the door leading into the cockpit.

The airplane is huge. It's much larger than I had been anticipating. Rows of seats line both sides of the flying machine, each row sporting a small window. Tris and I sit closer to the front, side by side.

Questions run through my mind, but I don't ask them. I want to know how this thing runs. I want to know how it can fly with it being so big.

I gave up questions when I left Erudite for Dauntless. Dauntless go into a situation, no questions asked. It's what make them such good soldiers. It's why it was so easy to get them under Jeanine's control.

Jen smirks. "You're going to want to buckle up," she tells us, disappearing behind a curtain to join the pilot.

The pilot takes off and my stomach lodges somewhere in my chest, the pressure reminding me I'm alive. It's amazing.

We are so high, I can barely make out the Bureau, or anything else. Colors blend together and the sky is right at my fingertips. I could open the window and I would be able to touch it.

"I want to be out there," I blurt out. "I want to strap myself to the wings of this thing and become part of the sky."

Being up here takes me back to when I first zip-lined. Back then, I thought it would be the closest I'd ever come to flying. This, like zip-lining, centers me. I remember who I am. I remember why I'm a perfect fit for Dauntless - I never want my fears to overwhelm me. Being Dauntless forced me to control the fear and somewhere down the line, my way of dealing with fear became twisted.

But this. Seeing the world from up here reminds me just how insignificant we all are. It makes me realize there's no shame in feeling fear, no shame in being afraid of the unknown because up here reveals a lot of unknowns. There's so much of the world I've never seen. The city I was born and raised in, can't compare to the world beyond.

"I want to learn to fly an airplane," I say, looking at Tris.

"Now that would be interesting," she replies.

"You don't think I can do it?" I challenge.

Her laugh never fails to warm me. "You can do anything," she says. "I would never doubt you."

Appeased, I peer out the window. "Just think of it, Tris. Think of all the places we could go if I had something like this to take us there."

"It feels like we've been living in a bubble." Her hand tightens around mine. "Everything we thought to be true is a lie. We grew up thinking there was nothing else. Turns out that Chicago is just a little spot on the map."

"We don't have to stay here," I say. "We can leave all of this behind. We could travel and see what else the world has to offer."

I can see it in my mind's eye. I can picture us making a life in a world that isn't as messed up as the one we're living in now. We could put the past behind us and start fresh. Yes, yes, yes.

"I can't."

"Why?" I demand.

Why can't we just disappear? Why can't we start over? We wouldn't be labeled as Divergent or not Divergent. For once we could just be Eric and Tris.

Her eyes are sad, apologetic even, when she looks at me. "If I leave it will be because I'm running away."

Her heads shakes. "And my brother. I can't leave him."

"Tris-"

"A war is coming, Eric," she says gently. "And we're a part of it."

I don't want us to be a part of it. I want to be free. I want to feel like I do now. I want to feel like this forever. We're so high up from the ground nothing could ever reach us. From up here, what's down below can't touch us.

"Why should we help people who have used us?" I ask angrily. "They lied to us. They wanted to keep us under their thumb," I exclaim, my tone resentful.

"It's what my parents would do," she says. "They would never leave good, innocent people behind to die when they could do something to help."

The anger seeps out of me then. I often forget all of the different facets that make Tris who she is. Asking her to run away was selfish.

I smile ruefully. "It was just a thought. A daydream really."

"This won't last. Soon things will come to a head and the life we know will be over. Someday I will explore the world with you," she promises, running a gentle hand through my hair.

"I'm going to hold you to that," I say, leaning into her touch.

"You're back!" Matthew says over the hustle and bustle outside.

And today was going so well, I think.

To remind him of what's not and will never be his, I wind my arm around Tris' waist.

"Hi, Matt," Tris greets.

Matt? Since when has Matthew become Matt?

"I just got both of your results back from the lab," he says, beaming at Tris.

I find myself not wanting to know my results.

"Like I thought," Matthew says, barely breathing, he's talking so fast. "Your genes are completely healed," he tells Tris happily.

"What about Eric?" she asks.

Matthew finally acknowledges my presence. "There are different levels that we use to describe how damaged a person's genes are. 1 being the least damaged and 5 being the worst."

"What level am I?"

"You're closest to level 4," he replies. "That's why your recent improvement is so fascinating. The closer you are to level 5...well, let's just say the likelihood of improvement lessens considerably."

Tris squeezes my arm reassuringly. Matthew notices and frowns.

"I would like to ask you some questions," Matthews says to me.

"Questions?"

His head bobs up and down. "I would love to have a better grasp on what's going on in your head. It's not mandatory, or anything!" he rushes to explain. "However, your cooperation would help further my understanding of the genetically damaged."

"I guess I could answer your questions," I reply.

"Excellent," he says, smiling. "Come by the lab after lunch."

He grins at Tris before he leaves, walking back to the lab in long strides.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tris questions, giving me a concerned look.

"None of these people trust me," I say. "Cooperating with them might help me gain their trust faster."

She looks confused. "Why does it matter? No one seems about to throw you out either way."

I bend down to lightly kiss her forehead. "I'm not about to take any chances on that. Fear makes people ugly; causes them to do bad things. If they don't have any reason to fear me, then I won't have to worry about them turning on us."

* * *

Four's POV (The same morning Eric and Tris were taken to the Bureau, a couple hours after he found them missing)

Following their trail was easy. I found the truck deserted in Erudite. The tires were slashed.

I got out to see if I could find anything and I made out two sets of footprints going south. Whatever had happened, it would seem Tris, and presumably Eric, got away.

So I followed their tracks, which took no time at all since I had the truck.

And here I stand, behind a tree, watching Tris and Eric sleeping.

I'm frozen in place by what I'm seeing. Tris is practically on top of him and he's got an arm wrapped around her. It looks like they're a couple.

I swallow the bile rising up my throat. I fight the need to throw up.

I hadn't been expecting Tris to cozy up to the enemy. But maybe...maybe Eric has brainwashed her. Or perhaps he took advantage of her in her sleep.

I'm about to step from out behind my hiding place when I see another truck approaching. Apparently, Eric hears the engine as well because he's up and alert in seconds.

Whoever is coming can't be anyone good.

The following moments are tense and full of anticipation. And everything screeches to a stop when I see who climbs down from the drivers seat. A dead man - Amar.

Amar and some woman confront Eric and Tris. I'm too far away to hear what they're saying, but they seem friendly enough.

It doesn't make any sense though. Amar is dead, and yet there my old friend stands, looking very much alive. I turn away, sit down, and put my head between my legs. I'm confused and becoming angry because he's obviously not dead.

Someone lied to me.

Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.

Okay. I need to go to them. I'll bring Tris back with me and I'm sure they will hand over Eric. He is after all the factionless' prisoner.

Yes, I'll get up and fix everything. I'll save Tris and take care of Eric. It will be simple; it will be easy.

The sound of a fading engine causes me to tumble to my feet and emerge from my current hiding place.

No! How could I have been so stupid to take my eyes off of them?

I can't run after them, I'll never catch up. I left my car behind a mile back to give myself the element of surprise, so I'm screwed.

Panting in anger, I tug on my hair, and kick the tree. I feel nothing.

Growling, I start making the trek back to the truck. I shouldn't follow them alone. I might need backup depending on where they're taking them. I should go back, tell Evelyn what I saw, and bring reinforcements.

More determined than ever, I backtrack, thinking of all the ways Eric's going to pay for what he has done.


	14. Chapter 14

Four's POV

I'm coming, Tris. I'm coming.

5

4

3

2

1

Eric's POV

The lab is mostly empty. Everyone must be out to lunch still.

"Eric," Matthew greets politely.

I nod. "Matthew."

"If you'll come stand by me we can get started. There's something I want to show you first."

I walk past desk after desk, screen after screen. He's in the back of the room, looking at a computer. His arms are crossed, his face unreadable.

"What do you want me to see?"

His eyes lock with mine. "Something beautiful."

I turn my eyes to the screen and when I see what's playing, I can't look away.

It's Tris. It's Tris, begging her old friend to snap out of it. This was when we attacked Abnegation.

She's pleading with him, gun ready and aimed. The boy keeps coming. Tears leave tracks down her face; the corners of her mouth quiver.

"Please, Will," her voice shakes.

There's no hesitation. He keeps coming.

"Don't make me do this."

I watch Will's arm raise, the gun now parallel to her chest. His finger curls, putting pressure on the trigger.

 _Bang!_

"Will," she whispers.

A broken girl falls to her knees, looking for all the world like she just died too.

I slump into the nearest chair. I don't take my eyes off of her.

Matthew pauses the recording. He clears his throat. "There's more," he says. "If you're willing to watch."

"Why are you showing me this?" I ask, still looking at her image, frozen on the screen.

"Do you want to see more?" He asks, not answering the question.

No. "Yes."

There's a pause and then I see her in the corner of a dark alleyway, shooting at faceless soldiers. Her mother, I assume, watching her back.

"This was right after Will," he tells me quietly.

"There's too many of them," Tris yells.

"We don't have any other options. Keep shooting," her mother replies.

Then everything turns red. Her mother has been hit in the shoulder. Tris doesn't realize it right away. Not until she asks a question, and doesn't get an answer.

She turns in slow motion, eyes landing on the sight of her fallen mother. I can't describe the look on her face when she sees her mother severely injured. There's horror, denial, anger, fear, unbearable pain, swimming in her brown eyes.

"Mom!" She cries out, her fingers trembling uselessly over the wound. "Mom."

The light is fading from her mom's eyes. One word escapes her lips, "Love..."

Then she's gone.

Tris' head shakes back and forth desperately. "No, no!"

She screams.

It's horrible. It rips its way out of her mouth and I think it must shake the buildings surrounding her with its rage. It goes on forever, echoing until the end of time. The scream of the hopeless. The scream of someone who's lost.

"There's one more," Mathew says.

The next one shows Tris and Four in a control room in Dauntless. Based on his blank stare, he's been injected with the serum.

Tris is fighting him and losing. She's trying to get through to him. She's doing everything she can to break through the simulation he's in.

It's when she gives her gun to him that I lose my breath. She gives it up, presses it into his hand. He takes it and he digs it into her skull.

Her face shows none of what she's just been through. If anything she looks peaceful. Like she's walking through a beautiful garden, rather than facing certain death.

I don't get it.

Matthew pauses the recording. "You can't possibly understand what just happened," he informs me.

I turn to him. "Why did you show me that?"

"Why did she spare Four's life?"

"I have no idea," I say.

His smile is condescending. "I thought so."

I stand up. "Tell me what the point of this was."

There's a flicker of fear in his eyes before it's replaced with fake cockiness. "She changed that day. She became harder, more scarred. And it's because of you. Your actions led her to what you just saw."

I know. I know this.

He runs a finger down her face displayed on the computer. "I've watched her for a long time, Eric. She amazed me from the very beginning. Then, for some unfathomable reason, she choose you. You!" he exclaims incredulously.

I clench my fists to keep from hitting him. I know why he brought me here now. He wanted me to see that I don't deserve her. Well, I knew that already.

"You didn't have any questions," I state more than question.

"The only question I had for you, you couldn't answer. Your inability to come up with one is more proof you don't belong with her," he says.

"I let Tris make her own decisions," I grit out.

"She'll realize sooner or later just how unworthy you are," Matthew says. "She'll realize how _damaged_ you are."

"You made your point," I say.

I turn to leave. I stop. "You think you know who she is," I say. "I may be limited by my genes, but I would never presume to think I've got Tris figured out. So don't fool yourself, Matthew. If you think you know her, then I would say you know nothing."

* * *

She's on her bed, polishing her dagger.

All I can think is that I'm partly the reason she's gone through so much pain. Matthew's harsh words and the clips I saw, drum into my head relentlessly.

"How did it go?" she asks, smiling up at me.

I return her smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "Good," I lie.

Looking away from her probing stare, I go to one of the windows. The fence blocks me from seeing anything past the compound.

It doesn't take long for her to follow; I feel her presence behind me. "What happened?" She asks.

"Nothing," I reply automatically. I see no point in telling her what I saw, or what Matthew said. I think I'm afraid. I'm afraid it will open her eyes to the truth.

Without thought, I spin around, pick her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around my waist. All I can see is her. It's all I want.

I move my lips, but no words come out, so I kiss the hollow of her throat instead, relishing in the feel of her fluttering pulse against my mouth.

Deciding I'm not nearly close enough to her, I stumble blindly to my bed. As soon as I can, I press my body to hers, hiding my face in her short hair.

"Stay," I beg.

She doesn't know what's wrong, but she wraps her arms and legs around me anyway. "Shhh..." she whispers, rubbing my back. Up and down, up and down.

"Stay always," I say, kissing her delicate ear.

"I will," she says.

"Tris," I moan, sliding my hands to her waist, kneading my fingers into her skin. I want her skin bare. I want my skin bare. I despise every piece of clothing keeping me from her.

I'm shaking from the effort it takes to not just rip and rip and then rip some more.

 _Slow._

 _You don't deserve her._

 _She'll realize, she'll find out._

 _"_ I'm ruined by you," I say, wanting to brand the words on her heart. "I might never recover."

"Would that be a bad thing?" She asks.

"Never."

* * *

Tris' POV

He's asleep. Even in his sleep, he clutches me to him as if he's afraid I'll fly away.

I haven't stopped rubbing his back since he laid me down on his bed. It isn't enough, but I hope it keeps the nightmares at bay.

The first chance I get, I'm going to ask Matthew what happened. Eric has never been so desperate with me before. Every touch, every kiss spoke of fear and pain. It hurt to see him like that.

It's nearing dinnertime when there's a sharp knock at the door. Prying myself from Eric's grasp, I get up to see who it is.

"Jen," I say, grinning.

"You have a visitor," she says.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing I hear is yelling. I hear David and Amar and Four yelling over each other.

...

Four. Four. Four.

I run into the control room, leaving Jen behind.

"You have no control over the dealings-"

"He's _our_ prisoner," Four says, glaring at a flushed David.

"Four," I say.

Our eyes connect. He's different than when I last saw him. In a few short days, he's become years older. His eyes are tired and yet manic at the same time. The lines bracketing his mouth have deepened.

He's there's without warning. His arms have caged me in, barely giving me room to breath. "They wouldn't let me find you," he's says.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking at the faces around us, hoping for some answers.

"I'm here for you," he says, pulling me tighter against his body.

Gently I push him away. "I don't understand."

If he's here because of my actions back in the city, then why is he behaving as if - as if he's in love with me.

"I'm here to bring you home, Tris," he says.

Home. I haven't had a home in a very long time. He can't possibly think my home is back there with the factionless, with Evelyn. He has to know I wasn't happy there.

I look to David for help, but all he gives me is a helpless shrug.

"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.

He laughs. He laughs long and hard like he thinks I'm joking and what I just said is the funniest punch line he's ever heard.

"Of course you are," he replies, the laughs tapering off into breathless chuckles.

Anger and fear mix together, making a bitter cocktail of emotions. He isn't listening to me. He thinks I'm leaving with him, but I'm not. Why would he think I would ever go back?

The Bureau isn't home. It has Eric though and both of us are safe here. Four should know this. In fact, he should hate me because I betrayed him and his mother when I snuck out of the city in the dead of night.

"Four, if I go back, they will execute Eric," I say as calmly as my pounding heart will let me. "And I will pay as well for my crimes. We can't go back," I insist.

"Eric," he says, "Eric deserves to die for what he has done to you."

Such anger. I've seen Four upset before. Right after he managed to break free from the simulation, he was angry with me for risking my life like that. But this.

His eyes are raging on everything they land on. There's so much of it, I can't imagine why the room hasn't burst into flames yet. Then he directs his gaze to me and another emotion joins the anger. I can't put a name to it, but it's softer, more approachable.

"He hasn't done anything to me," I say, standing my ground.

Right now Four is a stranger to me. He's not acting like himself. His movements are jerky, his face drawn. He's not as alive as he was just a few short days ago.

Every part of him, every line, every muscle, every freckle, stiffens. "He kidnapped you. He forced you to leave me."

And I hadn't thought my heart could pound any harder. I take a few steps back. "I left of my own free will," I tell him softly.

Each word I utter is a bomb. If I don't let them out gently, they will explode, and something bad will happen.

His hands start to shake by his sides. "He's brainwashed you. He's making you lie for him," he says.

No one else has anything to say. Everyone else in the room has become still.

"You're wrong," I reply. "I couldn't let your mother kill him. He deserved a second chance. Leaving was the only thing I could do."

"No," he says, taking a step towards me.

"If Eric wanted to hurt me, I would be dead by now," I say in exasperation. "He would have brought me to Jeanine."

"No. I don't believe you."

"Four-"

"What's going on?" Eric asks, walking into the room.

"You," Four growls, making a beeline for Eric.

"Calm down, Four," Amar says, stepping in to grab Four's shoulder.

Four tugs against Amar's hold roughly. "You stole her!" he yells at Eric.

Stepping into Four's line of vision, I say, "Stop it. This is stupid. Eric didn't do anything, so calm down."

"We're meant to be together," he says, eyes searching mine. "Eric got in the way of that."

This isn't Four. This isn't the boy I thought I knew. He isn't who I let comfort me when I lost my family. He isn't the boy I told about Will when the guilt became too much.

I want to cry. I want to fall to the floor and cry until I have no more tears to give.

I don't know what happened. I don't know if it's my fault, or if it's the cause of a difficult life, but Fo-Tobias is broken. Somewhere down the road of destruction we've been forced to lead, he changed.

"We were never meant to be," I tell him gently. "We're friends."

"No!" he rages.

"I think we could all use a little break," David murmurs, rubbing his forehead.

"There are more that came with him," Amar tells me, not letting Four out of his grip. "They are being detained outside."

I maintain eye contact with Four for a few seconds longer, then I turn to Eric. He's standing a few feet behind me, waiting.

"I'll go see who they are," I say.

I leave with Eric by my side. Four's screams chase me all the way outside.

 **Note** \- This isn't meant to make Four look like some kind of bad guy. This is something I think Four is capable of. He grew up with a father who beat him, a mother who abandoned him, and he saw and did a great many things in his short life. To me, his circumstances could very easily break him if he had the right motivation.

Losing love or the idea of love can lead people down a path of destruction. And to lose to someone you considered an enemy? Well, add all that together, and you can end up with a messed up person.


	16. Chapter 16

Christina's POV

Four guards surround us.

I still can't believe it. I still can't believe there's something like this outside of the city. It's crazy and exciting, and I find myself hopeful for what's ahead.

"I don't get why we have to stay out here," Uriah grumbles.

The girl who volunteered for this, Lara, rolls her eyes. "We are threats. Of course they aren't going to invite all of us right through the front door," she says, huffing in exasperation.

I look around the area. The fence goes on for miles, the numerous buildings dot the land. It's a far cry from what I had been expecting.

I hope Tris is here. With the way Four has been acting, I wouldn't be surprised if he imagined seeing her out of desperation.

"There she is," Uriah, says, jerking his head towards the doors.

Tris makes her way to us. Eric's beside her.

He's not changed since I saw him bleeding to death when Edward broke open his stiches. He hasn't lost the multiple piercings, or the commanding air that bursts off him explosively. He looks as formidable as ever.

The way he keeps stride with her, step by step, surprises me. Eric is first in everything. Even when it comes to something as simple as walking because he's under the impression it gives him more power. And yet, he stays beside her willingly. They don't touch, but he stays close.

"Christina!" Tris says, shoving the guards aside.

She hugs me.

I realize I should be mad. She left without a word and she took the enemy with her. She claims to be my friend and she left me behind. I should be mad. I'm not.

I return the hug. "Good to see you again. I was worried about you," I say.

Her laugh is shaky. "I didn't know what else to do, Chris," she says, her voice apologetic.

Above all else, I'm honest. It's part of what makes me, me. So I feel a strong desire to berate, scold, and yell. I want to know what the hell she was thinking when she took off the way she did. I want to know why she didn't think she could tell me. I want to demand answers to my long list of questions.

It's the look in Eric's eyes that stop me from saying anything.

He has no power over me anymore. I'm not some replaceable initiate. The factions are not the same. Nothing's the same. I doubt it will ever be the same again. Things have changed.

He has no control over my actions and normally I would rebel against the warning his eyes are giving me, no problem. I'd relish it. Afterwards, I would replay it over and over in my head, and I would cherish his reaction for years to come.

Revenge is a petty mistress.

What causes me to pause is the protective glint he aims Tris' way. He really seems to worry I'll upset her. It's so unexpected, I close my mouth. The grateful glance he gives me, leaves me speechless.

This isn't Eric. No, this can't be Eric. Eric is brutal, unfeeling. He's cruel and he toasts to other's heartache, and he celebrates death. He tossed me over the chasm like I meant _nothing._ He wanted me to slip. He wanted me to die.

"I'm glad you're here," she says, pulling away.

"I think I am too," I reply, casting the area another glance.

"All of you can come in," she says, smiling brightly at Uriah.

As usual Uriah returns to his usual, happy self, not wasting anytime giving Tris an exuberant hug. "Missed you," he tells her.

"Missed you too," she replies.

"This is Lara," I introduce once Uriah releases her.

Lara is a tall girl, slim, with pretty blue eyes. She's also hard to get along with. I've met a lot of sarcastic people, but she has to be the worst. However, her aim is always true, so Four allowed her to tag along.

"It's nice to meet you," Tris greets, nodding her head. "I'm Tris."

"I know who you are," Lara comments. "You're the girl that caused my people so much trouble."

My eyes dart to Eric. I'm curious to see his reaction to Lara's snide remark. I can't get over how protective he is over her. The anger displayed on his face seems to go unnoticed by everyone, but me. It's crazy and it doesn't make any sense, but it would appear Eric has _real_ feelings for her.

He's subtle about it. He hasn't touched her at all and he hasn't said a word. It's in the way his eyes glide over her face. It's in the way he angles his body towards her. It's soft and gentle.

"Tris did what she had to do," Uriah intervenes.

He always has a way of defusing tense situations. I envy him that gift. My mouth often runs away from me, therefore, creating more tension rather than defusing it.

Lara snorts, but stays quiet otherwise.

It's then that Eric's hand moves to rest against the small of Tris' back. Instead of being repulsed by the action, she leans into the touch.

Again, I deny my mouth the satisfaction of questioning the move. For now, it's better to remain quiet.

"Come," Tris says, grinning at me before walking through the doors to the large building that the sign says is the Bureau.

"I don't trust this," Lara says quietly, feeling for her gun.

I follow Tris because I might not trust these people either, but I do trust Tris.

* * *

Four's eyes never stray from Tris' form.

We're in what they call the control room. The entire room is filled with dark screens and large desks with people typing furiously away on computers.

My favorite part is all the windows. I missed seeing the outside world while living in Dauntless. Besides, windows are transparent; they reveal the truth. To me, it's a sign.

"You are all welcome to stay here," David says kindly to our small group. "Provided you come peacefully."

"I understand," Four replies as leader of our group.

I find his sudden cooperation suspicious. I expected more of a fight from him. The goal was to bring Tris back, and take back Eric. Now he wants to stay here?

I don't buy it.

"Perfect," David says. "All of you can stay with Eric and Tris. There are plenty of beds for everyone."

He claps his hands loudly. "Well! I would like the three of you to come back later, so I can help explain who we are and what we do here. All of you must have questions you would like answering," he says.

I'm dying to know now. I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for the truth. I'm more than ready to hear it.

"Sounds like a plan," Four says.

I guess the truth will have to wait.

* * *

Eric's POV

I don't want Four anywhere near Tris. From his episode earlier, he's clearly unstable. To let him stay in the same room with us is stupid.

I stay close to Tris. I keep quiet. I watch.

I watch the way he looks at her. I watch the way his hands become fists when his eyes land on me.

It's why I plan on staying up tonight.

"It's going to be okay," Tris whispers.

"How can you be so sure?" I ask her.

I watch her, watch the others settle in. "Four is lost right now. Kind of like you were," she says, giving me a look. "He's my friend though."

That says it all. He's someone who shares a history with her. A powerful, intense history. He was there for her when I wasn't. I have to acknowledge that.

That doesn't mean I'm going to let my guard down with him anytime soon.

* * *

Four's POV

I'm at war with myself. A part of me wants to let it go. A part of me wants to accept what Tris is offering - her friendship. But there's a bigger part of me that can't let it go. It isn't that easy. It can never be that easy.

I'm reminded of that old saying - all good things come to those who wait.


	17. Chapter 17

Eric's POV

"We're alone. Finally," I say, dragging Tris to lay down next to me.

Everyone went to breakfast. I will gladly skip it for this.

"You've been pretending to be asleep!"

I run my knuckles down her cheek. "Yes."

"I'm flattered," she replies.

"I already miss when it was just you and me in here," I say, sighing.

I can't stop my hand from drifting. It travels down her side to her hip, and it stops when it reaches her thigh. My other hand pulls her in closer.

"Me too," she says, kissing the underside of my jaw.

While I don't think she's lying, I know she is glad to have her friends here. I'm glad her friends are here if they make her happy.

Rolling over she settles herself on top of me, slim legs resting on both sides of my hips. The way she's looking at me, makes me smile like the idiot I've become. What I have found in this girl is like nothing I could have ever dreamed up for myself.

It's time. I hope it's time. If I screw this up, I'll never forgive myself.

"I have a secret," I say, forcing my eyes to keep contact with hers.

"That doesn't sound good," she replies.

I've never been more scared in my life. Nothing I ever had to do in Dauntless, scared me as much as what I'm about to say. I have to say it though. I have to be honest with her. If I keep this inside any longer, it's going to kill me.

I tug her down by her shoulders, and I kiss the tip of her nose, her cheek, her full bottom lip. "This is a good secret."

Her smile is wide with relief. "I'm listening then."

"I wanted you to know that - I've never..."

I can't spit it out. The words are jammed in my throat, the words too big, too _much,_ to choke out on my own. Why is it so hard? Why can't I just say it?

"I have a secret too," she comments suddenly.

"You do?" I ask.

I can hardly breathe I'm so hopeful. Everything I've ever wanted is right in front of me. All I have to do is say the words.

"I do," she says quietly.

We just look at each other. The corners of her mouth are turned up, each indent a mystery yet to be told. Her eyes twinkle down at me, affection shining bright. Her fingers play with my hair. I shudder when she grabs a fist-full, and tugs lightly, pulling me to her.

"I love you," she whispers, her hot breath tickling my ear.

Yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes.

My eyes close. "I love you too."

I need to remember this moment. I need to memorize the way she sounded when she said it. I need to be able to recall how it felt to have her weight pressed down on me years from now when we are both old and grey. If I ever lose this memory, I will lose sight of who I am. I'll forget the good this world has to offer. My eyes will become blind to the light.

Her laugh floats in the air. It dances throughout the room, twirling and spinning in delight.

"Is it weird?" I ask. "Is it weird for me to love you?"

She laughs again. "It's the weirdest," she replies.

A thought I've been meaning to ask her races to the forefront of my mind. "I want to ask you something," I say hesitantly.

Raising herself up by her hands, she says, "Okay."

My hands find their way to her hips. She's so small, so fragile, but then again, not fragile at all.

"Why didn't you kill Four?"

I know she knows what I'm talking about because her face darkens, and she turns her head to the side.

"How do you know about that?" she asks.

I congratulate myself for thoroughly ruining the moment. "Does it matter?" I question.

I won't tell her about Matthew. It'll make things worse and everyone is tense enough.

"Does it matter why I didn't pull the trigger?" she counters.

"I would have put a bullet in his head," I say.

It would have been instinctual. I would have taken whatever action it took to survive. Giving him the means to end me would have never crossed my mind.

"I was what you would call weak," she says.

"Weak," I parrot.

"Yes," she whispers. She pauses, blinks rapidly. "I wanted to die that day. In my eyes, it was all over. My parents were gone. And I took away someone's life like I had the right to."

I shake my head. "He would have killed you, Tris."

She sucks in a deep breath. "I could have shot him without killing him. I could have saved him. It just happened so fast," she breathes.

"You can't blame yourself," I tell her.

I'm being hypocritical because I blame myself for playing a part in her pain. My sins are great, stacked so high, no human being can see the top.

"It's something I have to live with," she says, something like acceptance in her voice. "I believed Four could break through the simulation. That's why I handed him the gun, and if he couldn't I knew I couldn't kill anyone else I cared about that day. I didn't have it in me."

"You are not weak," I say firmly. "Doing the right thing is never easy, Tris. I should know. It takes more strength to face death than it does to run from it."

She looks at me for a second, eyes unreadable. "I really do love you," she says.

"I love you too."

Her lips meet my parted ones. It lasts forever, but forever isn't long enough. "Let's go get breakfast," she says.

"I'll be there in a minute."

Once she's gone I sit on my bed, smiling. I laugh. I'm happy.

"That was touching," Four's says, standing in the doorway.

"I didn't know you had a problem with eavesdropping, Four." I'm proud that I'm able to hide my apprehension.

He strolls into the room, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I knew you were a thief," he states.

I rise to my feet. "If this is about Tris-"

"It always is, isn't it?"

He isn't holding a weapon, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. I on the other hand, have nothing.

"Four, you need to let it go," I say.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to get the girl. You deserve nothing," he spits out.

"She chose who she chose."

"She can change her mind," he challenges.

Yes," I reply.

A knife blade appears in his hand. I seem destined to be attacked by knives. I wonder why no one uses a hatchet anymore. It's such a powerful, yet often forgotten, weapon.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," he demands.

I think about that. Possible answers float in and out of my head. "I can't."

Sitting down might be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I do it.

That causes him to pause for a moment. His brows furrow; he inspects his knife. "It's funny how things change, isn't it? It should be you threatening me, shouldn't it?"

"Life's full of surprises," I reply.

"I think I love her," he says, looking at me like a lost child. "She doesn't love me."

"She does," I say. "She loves you because you're her friend."

He smiles at me unhappily. "It isn't enough."

I watch as he comes closer.

"I want to kill you. I want to watch you die by my hand. Maybe if you're dead, I'll get Tris," he murmurs.

Is this how Tris felt in that control room? I think so because my body is screaming at me to fight, to defend myself. Every nerve is strung tight, every muscle is begging me to move. Adrenaline courses through my veins, but I force myself to stay seated on the bed.

"I'm not going to fight you, Four."

He stares me down. "Why not?"

"I don't know." A chuckle escapes, unbidden. "I've been told Tris has left a lasting impression on me."

"You're not the same."

"I guess not," I reply.

He's closer now. The knife is poised, ready to plunge into my forehead. Time stops. My breath has run away from me. It's over. My time is up. Dark eyes stare into mine.

The knife clatters to the floor. He sinks to the ground, gripping his head roughly. He looks like he's in pain. "I thought I could do it. I wanted to do it," he says. "But I can't."

I don't say anything. I don't thank him, or apologize that he didn't end up with Tris like he had hoped to. I doubt he wants my sympathy or pity, so I won't burden him with them.

He's right though. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. It did, however, and I'll never stop being thankful.

Getting up, I pass him as I head towards the door. "I won't tell her," I say.


	18. Chapter 18

Tris' POV

"The food here is different," Christina comments.

"Not a fan of pancakes?" I ask.

She pokes her fork around in the syrupy mess. "It's just another thing that's changed," she replies, eyes sad.

All of us have had to adjust, and then readjust. We're children posing as adults. Guns and bullet proof vests are our costumes.

"So Eric, huh?" she asks, popping a bite of pancake into her mouth.

"Yeah."

She doesn't look up from her plate. "Kind of surprising."

Well, that's the biggest understatement of the century.

Smiling, I say, "Very."

"I noticed something was going on yesterday," she says.

"I suppose you disapprove?"

The question comes out sounding far more calm than I actually feel. The last time we discussed Eric, she basically encouraged me to let him starve. I can't imagine her opinion of him has changed much in the past week.

"My disapproval makes sense," she agrees. "But I don't think I do."

I'm dimly aware of my unhinged jaw.

Finding amusement in my current expression, she chuckles. Her grin is contagious. "It's what I saw yesterday that changed how I saw him," she says.

"Yesterday," I echo.

"He really cares about you. I can't really wrap my head around it, but I would be blind not to see how he is with you."

It's not quite approval, but it is acceptance. I'll take it.

"I care about him too," I say.

Head shaking in disbelief, she says, "We are living in a crazy world."

Lara's eating her breakfast at the end of the table. She's scarfing down her food, not seeming to be paying any attention to us. Uriah has made himself at home in the table beside us. He's trapped two attractive, blonde girls. They've been listening to his stories for an hour. I don't know where Four is.

"I don't trust him completely," Christina admits.

"You don't have to. It's okay."

I don't expect her to like him, or even approve of him. I just need her to respect my decision. It's a decision I don't plan on changing my mind about anytime soon.

* * *

Four's POV

I lose track of how long I've been on the floor with my head in my hands. It could've been 5 minutes; it could've been 5 hours. All I know is that I know nothing. I know nothing about who I am, or what I want.

I thought I wanted to right a wrong, but I found that right and wrong aren't always clearly defined, and that bad people can change. Eric certainly has. And so have I. I'm no longer the good person I thought I was. I can't be because I almost plunged a knife between Eric's eyes for no other reason than because he destroyed a fantasy, and that's all it ever was - a fantasy.

Tris has never wanted me like I've wanted her. When I waited back from the group and listened in to their conversation, I was ready to throw patience out the proverbial window. I was fully ready to end the man who ruined any chance I thought I had with Tris.

I wasn't prepared for his reaction, however. I expected him to resist my attack. I had counted on it even, so I was extremely surprised when he just sat there.

I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't kill someone not willing to fight back. ...So here I sit. I sit and I think. I think I never really loved Tris, but rather the idea of her. I think my mom might not be the woman I thought her to be, who I desperately wanted her to be. I think I should stay here...for now. Until I figure out my next move.

I think, I think, and I think some more.

* * *

Eric's POV

Standing in the entryway to the cafeteria, I watch Tris and Christina talk. Everything between them seems to be okay. I'm relieved.

Christina catches my eye; she smirks at me and waves me over. Tris turns around her chair, smiling that perfect smile of hers.

Like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet, I go to her. I think we're going to be okay.


	19. Chapter 19

_Almost 2 months later_

He's not responding. He never does.

"I'm sorry," I say for the thousandth time. "I should have been there. I should have been with you."

I have to stop for a minute because emotion clogs my throat, making it ache painfully. There's a sensation in my gut like I'm being ripped in half.

"It's time to wake up, Eric."

How much longer? Am I going to be waiting forever? Is that my punishment?

I hate looking at his unresponsive face. I'm sick of coming here every day, waiting for a miracle. I'm tired of the guilt.

I don't understand why he had to get captured. I don't get why they only took him. It's not fair. I waited weeks, then I searched for months. He was nowhere to be found. It was like he'd vanished without even a single clue to where he could be.

I found nothing in Erudite, which is where I suspected him to be. I found no trace of him in Candor, or Dauntless. It turned out they'd put him in Abnegation like some kind of sick joke. They had him in an old, abandoned house.

He was asleep when my team rescued him. He was tied to the metal bed frame. Needle marks decorated the inside of his arm. He'd lost a significant amount of weight. He had no clothes on.

With each new realization, I became more and more despondent. When I approached him I felt like it was too late. I was too late. Was he dead? No, but something told me he might as well be.

It's been weeks and he still sleeps. No one knows why.

"You've missed dinner," Christina says from the doorway.

"I'm not hungry," I say.

"Tris..." she starts, then stops. I don't look at her directly but I can see she's watching me.

Everyone watches me now. When I leave this room, people I pass in the halls eye me warily. When I do eat, I sit alone because no one has the courage to approach me.

"How long are you going to punish yourself?" she asks me.

Christina doesn't have a problem confronting me. I actually think she likes it. It's been too long since she's been able to speak her mind.

I say nothing. There's nothing to say. I might be punishing myself, but it's because I deserve it. It's my fault he's here.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," she says more gently than I thought her capable of.

 _Leave me alone, Christina. Go away. There's nothing you can do to make this better. Go._

Seeming to give up for now, she lets the door close behind her.

* * *

 _Six months ago_

"I need space, Eric," I say.

"I give you space," he replies.

This is the same argument we've been having for weeks with no end in sight.

"No, you don't," I disagree. "You try to keep me safe, and it's suffocating. You've got to let me do the assignments."

The pacing starts. "It's dangerous, Tris."

"This is a war, Eric," I snipe.

"Fine," he snaps abruptly. "If you want to get yourself killed then go right ahead."

The frustration that's been building for months, explodes. "You're being ridiculous! I'm not some pet you can make obey. You might not be able to understand because of who you are, but it's not your job to lock me up in a cage!"

As soon as I'd said it, I regretted it. I didn't have a chance to apologize - he just walked out. I tried to find him, but they told me he'd left to go scout out Dauntless' new army with the team.

* * *

 _Present day_

Christina's POV

I make my way to our room. As soon I close the door behind me, Four's there, worried like always.

"Where is she?" Four asks.

"Where she always is."

Four looks as tired as I feel. It's been a rough few months and it doesn't look like it's going to get easier anytime soon.

"She can't keep doing this," he mumbles.

"That's what I told her, but I don't think it sunk in."

"Matthew doesn't think he's going to wake up."

Sighing, I sit down on one of the bed's lumpy mattresses. "When he mentioned his concerns to Tris, she went off in a rage," I say, remembering that day clearly. "She punched him pretty hard, so I don't think I'd say anything to Tris if I were you."

"She's losing it, Chris."

Yes. It's been a slippery slope that Tris hasn't been trying to fight. Each day, she says less, eats less, sleeps less.

I shrug helplessly. What else is there to say?

"What happens if he never wakes up?" he questions, eyes troubled.

"I don't know."

* * *

Tris' POV

Day 52. No change. I want to scream and throw things because there's no change. There's never any change. Never. Never. Never.

"I learned how to fly the plane while you were...away," I confess quietly.

My nails pick at a loose thread in my sweater. "I imagined you were beside me. If you would just open your eyes, I could teach you. Imagine how amazing it would be, Eric," I plead.

I laugh bitterly at the never-ending silence. I cross and un-cross my legs. I ignore my growling stomach.

I've learned to hate myself. I've learned to hate everyone else too. No one understands why I sit here like a zombie day in and day out. They don't understand the pain I feel every second that I'm awake. I hate them for not understanding.

"I miss you. So much."

If he'd only wake up...I'd take it all back. Everything I said, every hurtful word, I'd beg forgiveness for. He won't wake up though and I can't ask for forgiveness.


	20. Chapter 20

The meadow is like nothing I've ever seen before. It's alive with color - the green grass, the pink and yellow flowers blooming everywhere, and the blue, cloudless sky. It's gorgeous.

I'm on my back, staring up at the sky, thinking about nothing. I have no idea how I got here, but it's beautiful and peaceful and I never want to leave.

 _Tris_

I look around when I hear my name. Seeing nothing, I return to my original position.

 _Tris_ , the wind breathes.

The voice sounds familiar. I've heard it before - what feels like a long time ago. It's deep and comforting. The voice symbolizes safety and home.

I get to my feet, turning this way and that. "Eric," I whisper, my voice heart-breakingly hopeful.

At first there's no one. The only sound of life is the pounding of my heart and the birds chirping in the trees nearby. "Eric," I say louder.

I wait anxiously. He's here. He's here. I heard him. I did. He has to be here.

"Tris."

I spin so fast I stumble over my feet. He's standing at the edge of the clearing. Pierced skin, dark tattoos, black eyes fill my vision.

In the time it takes a heart to beat, I'm running across the meadow, running as fast as I can in case he vanishes before I can reach him.

20 feet.

 _Stay_ , I plead in my head.

10 feet.

 _Please._

5 feet.

"Eric," I cry, flinging my arms around him, holding on as tight as I can.

I hide my face in his chest, breathing in the smell of him. He's warm and the best part is his eyes are open. Relief and happiness crash over me like a tidal wave. Nothing has ever made me feel as raw as I do now.

"Never leave me alone again," I say, fitting my face in the crook of his neck, desperate to be closer to him.

"I never left you," he says gently, running his hand through my hair.

There's a sob lodged in my throat. I fight it, but it presses and climbs its way up despite my effort to swallow it into submission. There's a second where I think I've gained control, but I haven't. So I give in. I let it shake my body, I let the one sob turn into two, and then three.

I let myself be weak.

"Tris," he soothes.

"Y-you di-did," I say again, sounding completely broken.

I sag against him. When I've regained the ability to breathe, I lift my head. "I'm sorry," I say, needing to apologize, "I said things I didn't mean. I pushed you away. What happened is my fault."

"No," he denies.

"I'm so sorry."

He kisses my forehead lightly. "It's okay. I forgive you," he says.

I inhale and exhale slowly. My fingers haven't loosened their grip on his shirt. They won't let go and I'm okay with that. Only...only he's not as solid as he was before. Panicked, I tighten my fingers, but they close around empty air.

"Eric."

I can still see him, but I can't touch him. He's like a hologram now - not substantial, not human.

Whereas before, he was holding me, now he stands several feet away.

"Eric."

When I get close, suddenly he's at least 10 feet away from me. My arm stretches, trying to close the distance, but I can't reach him, and he's disappearing.

"No," I plead with him.

My eyes snap open. I'm in the chair beside Eric's bed. I'm with the rebel group - the Allegiant. Eric's been unconscious for 53 days. What I thought had happened was only a dream.

I sit there while a part of me dies inside.

 _The next day_

David walks into the hospital room with a sympathetic look on his pale face. He's visited several times in the past 54 days. Every time he stands at the foot of Eric's bed and talks about how everything will be okay and to not give up. I don't believe him and I always tell him I won't.

How can I?

"Tris," he greets, his tone apprehensive.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Tris, I'm sorry."

He won't look me in the eye and he won't come into the room, instead choosing to stand by the door.

"What's wrong?" I repeat, roughly this time due to fear.

He massages the bridge of his nose. Sighing, he finally makes eye contact. "We can't keep him on life support any longer," he says. "We don't have the resources to keep him alive indefinitely."

Stunned, I make my legs support my weight. "You can't," I say.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

For several long seconds I stand across from him, Eric's body between us. What David told me sinks in. They're going to kill him.

"Please, David," I manage as helpless tears fill my eyes.

He glances at the linoleum floor, too much of a coward to look at me any longer. "The chances of him waking up, Tris," he says, pauses, "are slim."

"You're going to pull the plug," I say, disbelieving.

"I'm-"

"Yeah, you're sorry," I murmur.

He opens his mouth to say something else that will break my heart, but I slash a hand through the air to silence him. "He's here," I say, voice shaking in anger, "because he was collecting information. For you!"

I storm around the bed. "And you're going to repay him by killing him," I hiss.

To his credit, he stands his ground. "I understand how you feel-"

"You understand nothing!" I rage.

He stares at me like I'm some pitiful, wounded animal that needs saving.

"I'll give you two more days," he says. "If he's not awake by then, I'm afraid you're going to have to say goodbye."


	21. Chapter 21

I can hear her. Whoever she is, she's upset. Her soft tone is often sad. She will sometimes force laughter, or other times a cold hand will reach for mine hesitantly.

Lately, she doesn't talk at all. I feel her presence though. I feel her distress like I can claim it as my own. She's in pain.

I am too. I'm stuck in a body I can't control, in a body that won't follow my commands. I can't move my hands when I want to curl my fingers around the girl's. My eyes won't open no matter how hard I try.

I have no control over what happens to me.

 _I have no control over what happens to me._

"It's over," the girl says.

No, it can't be because I'm still alive inside of a dead corpse. I'm still here.

 _I'm trapped!_

There are other people in the room. Machines beep and a man is talking.

"We did everything we could, Tris," he says apologetically.

"I can't do this."

I've had days to memorize the sound of her comings and goings. I can tell when it's her, or when it's someone else without needing to hear a word. And right now she's leaving. She's leaving me with strangers who want to hurt me.

Needles, straps designed to tie me down, scissors opening me up, and pills that made everything fuzzy and confusing, race through my mind.

Nothing bad happens when the girl is with me. The panic I feel when I'm awake is bearable when I know she's in the room. I'm safe with her. Things aren't quite as bad when we're together.

But she's gone. I'm alone and hands are touching me. They're going to hurt me. Soon there will be pain. Uncontrollable pain. The Woman will be back. She'll tell me things. She'll say I'm worthless, she'll say I deserve the pain.

 _Don't leave me!_ I scream in my head.

Come back. I don't know what you look like. I don't know your name, but none of that means anything because you make my nightmares go away, you protect me from my fears.

No, not again. Not again. I've had enough.

No, please. Please.

"No!"

Gasping for air, my eyes fly open.

There's silence and then a flurry of movement that I pay no attention to.

I'm not strapped down, but I can't find the energy to sit up. I look around the room, searching for the girl. None of the people are right.

A man I don't recognize steps into my line of vision. "Eric! I don't believe it," he says.

He starts to reach for my wrist when I strike. Pulling him down is easy. I use him as leverage to lift myself up, twisting my arm around his neck, much to the alarm of the others in the room.

"I don't know who Eric is," I say, voice raspy from lack of use. "And I don't know any of you."

Squeezing experimentally, I watch their scared faces turn as white as the sheets on my bed. This man is important to them. I can use him to get what I want.

"I want to see the girl," I rasp.

"Who?" the man in my grip asks weakly.

"The girl!" I yell.

I don't know her name. Fear and frustration take turns flooding my mind. I need to see the girl. She'll make things safe again.

"Tris, he means Tris," the man says. "Matthew, go get Tris!"

A young man races from the room, the door slamming closed behind him. I continue to hold onto the slim, scared little man, feeling his pulse flutter nervously under my arm.

* * *

Tris' POV

The first thing I do when I walk out is run outside. I make it to the gate before my knees give out. I fall to the ground, my torso leaning into my bent legs. The screams fly from my mouth. I scream and I yell until my vocal cords give out and all that's left of me is a sore throat and silent tears.

My body rocks back and forth. My head is filled with what I've just lost. He's gone. It's over; he's gone.

"Tris," Matthew calls from several yards away.

I ignore him. I attempt to calm myself, but the harder I try, the worse it gets. The tears just won't _stop_.

"Tris, he's alive."

Freezing, I replay that sentence over and over in my head. He's alive. _Alive._

I whip my head around to face him. "What?"

Matthew's face is grim. "He's awake."

I quickly push myself to my feet. "Awake."

He nods, face serious. "You need to get back. He's threatening David."

Striding to him, I ask, "What happened?"

"I don't know. We were removing the IV, then his eyes opened," he says, leading me back inside, down the hall to where the hospital's located.

He's awake.

With that thought, I race ahead of Matthew. "Eric!" I yell, running down the multiple hallways, making it to the door, panting.

Eric's sitting up on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around David's neck. I don't really think about why he's threatening David.

Grabbing hold of the edge of the door to keep myself standing, I stare into the eyes of the man I thought I'd lost forever. My free hand slaps over my mouth.

He's looking back at me, relief flooding his own eyes. Walking forward, I say, "I thought I'd lost you."

His grasp on David loosens. "What's your name?" he asks, his frightened eyes locked on me.

I stop dead in my tracks.


	22. Chapter 22

He doesn't remember my name. He doesn't remember _me_.

It's so unexpected that I just stand there. "My name is Tris," I say eventually.

There's no recognition on his face. "I want them gone," he says, nodding at the other medical professionals.

Considering his behavior that might be for the best. "Okay," I reply.

"That's not a good idea, Tris," Matthew cuts in, placing a hand on my elbow.

Eric's growl is immediate. Looking back at him, I notice how he's practically choking David. For some reason, he doesn't want anyone around him but me, which doesn't make any sense considering he doesn't even remember me.

"It's fine," I say. "He won't hurt me."

Matthew's about to say something else when Eric intervenes, "Get out, or he's dead."

To prove his point, he presses a fist against David's throat, forcing the Allegiant leader to gasp for breath.

"Fine," Matthew mutters angrily.

Everyone leaves, Matthew being the last one out the door. When they're all gone, Eric whispers something to David, too low for me to catch. Whatever he says causes David to turn whiter than a ghost. The poor man nods his head, and spares no time in fleeing once he's released.

"I heard you," is the first thing out of Eric's mouth when we're alone.

I don't know what he means. He heard me?

While I was asleep," he explains. "I heard you while I was asleep."

So that's why he trusts me. "Oh."

"Would you come closer?" he asks.

I could, but I don't want to. It's Eric and I'm so thankful he's alive, but he doesn't know me. He doesn't remember our first kiss, or when we escaped from the factionless together. He has forgotten our history and it hurts.

And yet, I can't ignore the way he watches me like I'm the only thing keeping him together. I can't make this all about me because he's the one with amnesia. He must be feeling scared and confused right now. If I can do anything to help, I will.

I push away the anger I feel and the disappointment that has settled heavily on my chest because I love him. "What do you remember?" I ask, sitting lightly beside him on the bed.

His eyes widen at the question, and his breath quickens. He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

He murmurs the word over and over, repeating it like a mantra.

"Eric," I soothe, too afraid to touch him.

He's lost to me. He doesn't see or hear me. Whatever is happening inside of his head has him paralyzed with fear. I'm hoping it will get better, but it doesn't. Tremors wrack his body violently; he starts to hyperventilate, and I can't stand it any longer.

My hands find their way to his face. Cupping his cheeks, I say, "Breathe, Eric. Breathe."

At first, there's no change, but after a few minutes, he calms down. His eyes are still panic-stricken and he's still shaking slightly, but he's looking at me, seeing me and that's a start.

"Tris," he says breathlessly. "Tris, Tris, Tris."

My name is what he murmurs to himself now. He grabs my elbows, presses his forehead to mine, and just keeps murmuring my name.

"Stay," he tells me.

"Always."

* * *

Eric's POV

She's beautiful. I've listened to her voice for months and to see her in the flesh...all I can think is that she's beautiful. And having her this close makes the world fuzzy in a good way.

I'm happy because I get to listen and talk to her now. That happiness glows and expands like a balloon inside of my chest. She keeps the demons at bay. She is a light, my light, in a world full of darkness.

The peace radiating through me doesn't last long, however. A sharp tap on the door, alerts to me the dangers surrounding us.

"Come in," Tris says.

It's the young man who didn't want to leave Tris alone with me - Matthew.

He looks at me differently than the others do. The others hide their dark intentions, but this one is open concerning his dislike towards me.

I especially don't like how he stares at Her when's she's not paying attention. His gaze is possessive, hungry, predatory.

Angry, I pull Tris flush to my side. His eyes narrow in response, and I nuzzle her neck to show him she's mine. Not his - mine.

She allows my affection, which signals we're on the same page. It means she cares for me the way I care for her and the very idea fills me with such pride I can hardly stand it.

"Have you found something, Matthew?" Tris questions, her tone eager.

Matthew's smile is pinched. "David ran tests on the blood we took. We scanned his brain and we think there's a correlation between the drugs he was given and his memory loss."

"They gave him something to forget?"

"Most likely," he confirms.

"Will he ever get his memories back?"

"It's hard to say," he replies

I don't like the desperation in her voice. She sounds scared and it worries me, so I squeeze her hip reassuringly. She gives me a small smile before turning back to Matthew.

"How come we didn't know this month's ago? You've been drawing blood for weeks."

"We have old equipment," Matthew replies a tad defensively. "It's slow going most of the time."

"I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything," she apologizes, sighing. "Everything's just been so hectic."

Matthew's face relaxes, his smile growing sincere. "It's okay," he says, walking to the bed.

Too close. He's too close.

The snarl rips through me, hitting the blonde man head on. I lean forward as far as I can, our faces mere inches apart. "Mine," I say.

I feel Tris' hand on my shoulder, holding me back. I'm weak enough that her grip keeps me from leaping at the man.

"Mine," I repeat for good measure.

There's a challenge in Matthew's eyes, then his expression clears. "I should go," he says.

My smile is feral. "You should," I agree.


	23. Chapter 23

Tris' POV

"Eric, you have to let them look you over."

Stubbornly, he snaps at anyone who gets close. I've tried to reason with him, I've reassured him countless times, but he refuses to be touched by anyone other than me.

Whatever happened while he was missing changed him, made him wary of everyone. The fear in his eyes makes me want to find the people who hurt him and hurt them.

"I'll do it," Matthew volunteers, studiously ignoring Eric's yells.

Matthew approaches Eric from the side, injecting a needle into his arm. Roaring, Eric twists to grab Matthew, but he's already jumped out of Eric's reach.

"I gave him a mild sedative to calm him down," Matthew says.

I falter when Eric begins to thrash around, whimpering quietly. "Not again. Please. No. Not again. Stop!" he pleads.

I've been standing off to the side, staying out of everyone's way. Until now.

"What's happening?" I ask Matthew.

He scans the small computer for a second. "He's fighting the sedative. How...?"

After a few more clicks, he says, "It's amazing. He should be asleep by now."

I glance down at Eric who's still fighting the medicine flowing through his veins. "Hey," I say, wanting to get his attention.

"Stop. Needles. Hate needles. No," he rambles on, oblivious to me or anything else.

"It's making him worse!"

"He's gained an immunity to the drug," Matthew says, not looking up from the computer.

"Why is he reacting so negatively to it?" I ask, frustration making me want to stomp my foot.

He shakes his head at me, scribbles something down on a piece of paper, more clicking. "Sedatives make you sluggish, slows the world down, and I gave him a large enough dose he should've fallen asleep."

Muttering quietly to himself, he looks at me. "My guess is that they've given him something similar to keep him cooperative, and he's built up an immunity to it. Bad memories are associated with the feeling the drug brings, therefore, causing him to panic."

Focusing on Eric, I reach for his curled first. "I'm here, Eric. No more needles," I promise.

His eyes flit to mine. Swallowing heavily, he whispers, "The needles make me feel funny."

"I know. I know. I won't let anything bad happen, Eric."

"Promise?"

The trust he's placed in me is too much. They broke him in a way I'm not sure can be repaired. This new Eric isn't anything like the old. He's childlike, afraid, innocent. Then there will be times, like yesterday, where he will resemble the old Eric. When he got in Matthew's face, I saw a glimpse of the man I used to know. Now though...I see a child in need of comfort.

"I promise."

His fingers slowly curl into mine. "Will you tell me about myself? I could use the distraction," he says, attempting a smile.

Forgetting everyone else, I lay beside him. "You're brave."

Pressed against him like this makes me long for what we used to be. I miss what we used to have, and I hate that it's gone. Maybe forever.

I harden myself to what my life has become and snuggle further into his warmth like a flower in spring searching for the sun.

"Your favorite food is spaghetti. You like Sunday mornings the best because you love to sleep in. You sleep with your socks on. Your favorite weapon is a machete of all things," I say, laughing.

"And you? What's your favorite food? Which morning do you prefer? Do you wear socks to bed?"

Smiling, I close my eyes against the tears. I've cried enough for one lifetime. "Pizza. Friday because it's my day off, and no I can't stand to sleep with my socks on."

I never needed socks because you were always there to keep me warm. Until you weren't.

"I loved you," he states matter-of-factly.

Oh, Pain, how you never stray far from my side.

"That's what you told me," I reply lightly.

"Tris?"

"What?" I murmur.

"I've forgotten a lot. I might never remember, but I want you to know my heart hasn't forgotten you."

 _My_ heart skips a thousand beats.

* * *

I enter the control room, un-surprised when every single person stops what they're doing to stare. Eric and I have become quite the source of gossip lately.

"Glad you could join us," David greets me from the head of the table where him and five other people are sitting.

I sit between Four and Christina. Neither one acknowledges my presence.

"Happy to be here," I say.

My eyes roam over Amar, Jen, and Matthew - all silently waiting for David to start whatever this is.

"We have a problem," David says solemnly. "A tracking device was embedded in Eric's neck."

Five seconds of silence is followed by loud voices talking over each other.

"What?" Four questions.

"Why are we just now hearing about this?" Christina accuses.

"Calm down," Amar commands.

Through it all, David doesn't look away from me. For once, the man isn't an easy read.

"They know our location?" I ask.

"They do," he replies.

It makes sense now. Hurting Eric was meant to be personal. Letting me find him, alive, relatively unharmed, was a trap. The reason it was so easy to get him out of Abnegation was because whoever took him, wanted me to find him, so I could lead them here.

"How long have you known?" Four asks David.

"He'd been here 48 hours when one of the nurses found the chip," Amar replies.

Four's face turns a bright shade of red. "You've known that long and you didn't think it was something we should know?"

"We thought it was better to keep it under wraps for as long as possible," David says softly, obviously doing his best to defuse a tense situation.

"We're in a war!" Four shouts, hands slamming down on the metal table, feet jumping out of the chair.

"You need to calm down, Four," Amar tells him.

"Four's right," Christina says calmly. "You should have told us this before now. We need to know when we've been compromised."

"Well, now you know," Matthew says sarcastically.

"You have cameras all over the city of Chicago," I point out. "Who are we dealing with here?"

"Amar," David signals wearily.

Amar's gaze shifts between Four, Christina, and I. "Jeanine and the factionless have joined forces. They're building an army."


	24. Chapter 24

"What's the plan?" Christina asks.

"We fight," Amar replies.

"How long do we have?" Four questions.

"We aren't sure," David says. "The good news is we"ll see them coming."

Four is staring up at the ceiling, chuckling to himself. "And how does that matter? You know as well as the rest of us - we don't have an army."

"We have men and woman willing to fight," David says.

"The real question here, Four, is - are you with us?" Amar asks.

Evelyn has teamed up with Jeanine. She's now officially the enemy. Is Four strong enough to fight his mother?

"Why are you here, Four?" I ask abruptly.

"What?"

"Why are you here? Why did you stay instead of going back?"

A terrible, disgusting thought forms in my head. Does Four have anything to do with Eric's disappearance? Did he know Eric was going to be taken, tortured, and tagged? Was all of this some elaborate charade? Make us think he's on our side when he was just really bidding his time?

"I had doubts concerning my mother's intentions," he says.

"You came here for the sole purpose of bringing me back. You never reported back to her," I say. "Why is that?"

"Because she wouldn't have accepted my failure," Four replies. "She expected me to retrieve you, and you didn't want to be retrieved."

His gaze is steady. "It seemed best to make a clean break."

"You were with him," I say. " Eric was taken when you were with him."

"And so was Christina, Uriah, and Lara," he points out defensively.

"Yes, but their mothers aren't our enemies intent on hurting us."

"I wouldn't betray you, Tris."

I'd like to believe that. I don't have the luxury to believe in pretty lies though. Someone would have had to contact either Evelyn or Jeanine and form a plan. How else would they have known where the team would be? It was too organized to be a random attack. If so, the rest of the team would have been taken too.

"Is it a coincidence only Eric was targeted?" I ask.

The people Four cares about, has relationships with, were left alone. I can't ignore the evidence.

"Lets not jump to conclusions," Jen cuts in.

"Tris makes some interesting points though," David says thoughtfully.

Four looks around the table. "I'm on your side," he tells us.

"We can't know that for sure," David says.

"Chris," Four pleads for help.

Sitting frozen in her chair, Christina says, "I don't know what to think."

"I'm not the mole," he insists.

"Perhaps," David says, "but we can't take that chance."

"What are you going to do?" He asks angrily. "Shoot me? Hang me from the building as a warning to anyone who might look guilty of something? How many times do I have to say I didn't do it?!"

"There will be no shooting, or hanging," Amar says.

"For the people's protection, you will be placed in one of our cells," David says.

"A cell," Four says incredulously.

"You will be released when we are sure of your innocence. If you're as innocent as you claim to be, you will go willingly," David says.

"I can't believe this."

Amar stands and waits for Four to do the same. "I'm sorry, Tobias."

As head of the military division, he's got a job to do. As Four's friend and mentor, he looks like he very much regrets having to lock Four away.

I stare at the table while Four gets to his feet. I feel the burn of his glare directed at me. I believe I'm right to be suspicious. Unfortunately, that doesn't make the doubt and uncertainty go away.

When the door closes, Christina turns to me. "What did we just do?"

"What we had to do."


	25. Chapter 25

Christina's POV

As soon as David adjourns the meeting, Tris leaves.

I need to talk to her. What happened isn't right. I let her words influence my judgement, but Four would never do the things we accused him of. Tris would know this if she had been there that day.

The masked men came out of nowhere, overtaking us in seconds. Four fought with us and for us. He did everything he could to make sure we all made it out of Dauntless headquarters alive. And we thought he had succeeded until we got to safer ground and then Eric was missing.

Four almost went back. For Tris' sake, he came so close to going back. It was the rest of us who convinced him not to. We told him it was suicide and as our leader he had a responsibility to the rest of us, to get us home safely.

There have been many nights since then that I've lain awake in my bunk, wallowing in regret. There wasn't a chance that we could've saved him that day because there were too many of them, but we could have followed his captors. At least then we would have had a location. But we didn't do anything.

The worst was having to come back to the Bureau. Tris had been waiting by the gate when we got back. She looked so relieved when she saw the truck approach.

It was Four who told her. After he said he was sorry, she swayed on her feet, closed her eyes, and cried. It was the first time I ever saw her break down like that. It was heart-wrenching in its silence. Four though...he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight while she fell apart. And she wasn't put back together again until she found Eric in that abandoned shack of a house.

She's right about one thing - we were all so relieved to have Eric back that none of us considered how easy it was to get him out of there. There's a mole in our midst, but I can't bring myself to believe it's Four. No one's that good of an actor, least of all Four who is the worst liar I've ever encountered.

I leave the control room and make my way to where Tris is most likely to be - with Eric.

She really loves him. Days would go by with her pouring over cameras and studying maps of the city. She was the first one going into the buildings we searched and the last one out. She didn't give up when most people would've considered it a lost cause. For her it wasn't over till she had him back again.

I knock on the open door to Eric's room, announcing my presence.

Eric looks at me. He's alone.

"You're walking around now," I say.

"Was going a little stir-crazy in that bed," he replies.

"Does Tris know you aren't resting?" I ask, stepping into the room.

He drops his gaze to the floor. "I'm going to take that as a no."

He smiles a bit, then goes back to looking out the window. "She hasn't been in to see me today," he says.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"I'm different," he says quietly after a long silence.

He is different. He's more hesitant than the old Eric, more unsure.

To hear him better I go stand behind him. "That's okay," I tell him.

"If I can't remember, she'll stop coming."

"That's never going to happen," I say. "She will never stop fighting for you, Eric. Never."

"Do you think my memories will ever return?" He asks, turning to me.

I shake my head. "I don't know. I do know she moved heaven and earth to get you back."

"She didn't know I wouldn't remember her though," he says.

"It doesn't matter. She loves you. Memories or no memories.

"I try," he says earnestly. "I try to remember my past, but it's like trying to find a picture on a blank screen."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"It isn't your fault."

"I didn't try harder to get you back. We could have done more," I admit, looking away from him because my shame is too strong to face him.

"My team," he whispers. "I was told I was part of a team. You were there when I was captured?" he asks.

"I didn't see them grab you, but yes."

He's quiet long enough that I think he's angry. I would be if I found out people who were supposed to have my back...well, didn't. I can only imagine what he went through, and it was probably worse than my imaginings.

I hear him walk away from me. "It's better no one else was captured," he says. "I wouldn't wish what I went through on my enemies."

I raise my head. He's sitting on the bed, looking at me. There's no judgement, or condemnation in his eyes. "I'm sorry," I say again because there's nothing I can say to make him whole again.

"It's alright," he says.

"Hey, guys," Tris says, standing in the doorway.

I'd been so focused on Eric I hadn't heard her approach. I hope she didn't hear anything. The last thing I want or need is for her to hate me. Eric might not hold my lack of effort against me, but Tris would.

Eric jumps up eagerly, goes to her, and moves his arms around her waist. I watch the interaction curiously.

Whether he can remember their past or not, his feelings for her have not lessened even a little bit. And the way she clutches his shoulders speaks loudly of her love and devotion to him. What they have is special. It's something you don't see everyday. Especially not in the world we live in.

Feeling like I'm intruding on a private moment, I maneuver around them.

"Did you need something, Chris?" Tris asks.

"We can talk about it later," I say, already halfway out the door.

They deserve some peace. It will be gone soon enough.

* * *

Eric's POV

She's more guarded tonight. Periodically, her eyes will glaze over, lost in thought. Something happened, but she won't tell me what.

"David says you're walking more."

Oh. "I wouldn't say more," I hedge.

"I think it's good," she says, amused.

I smile sheepishly. "How does he know anyway?"

Her finger points to the small camera in the corner of the ceiling.

"Ah. Nice to know I'm being watched so closely," I say sarcastically.

"They put it up while you were still in the coma. You know, in case you woke up in no one was here," she explains.

I hate thinking about it. Knowing what was going on around me, but being unable to do anything about it was terrifying.

Some nights, sleeping is difficult. Tris' presence helps immensely, but sometimes I'll stay up all night, not able to close my eyes due to the sheer terror I feel when I think that I might not able to wake up the next morning. Then there will be other nights where I'll fall asleep straight away in Tris' arms. Those are the nights I long for during the day, and relish in during the night.

Tris pulls away suddenly, abruptly. "I learned something today. I didn't want to tell you," she says, "but you should know."

Sitting up as well, I rub her back soothingly. "What did you find out?"

"The people who had you...they put a tracking device in your neck."

A tracking device. Inside me. They know where I'm at. More importantly they know where this place is.

I feel the beginning of a panic attack coming on. I can't get enough oxygen in my lungs; my palms are cold and sweaty.

"Stay with me, Eric," she says.

I want to, but my body feels like it's out of my control. I can't steady my breath because I can't breathe.

Drawing her to me, I bury my face in her hair, desperate for relief from the fear. I could easily lose her. I've already lost myself; I can't lose her too. I won't lose her too.

"Their coming?" I ask.

She nods her head against my neck.

"I have to fight," I tell her softly.

The breath she lets out warms my neck. "I know."

I've gotta kill as many of those bastards as I can. For my sake and Tris'. I'm not going to let them win. I can't let them win. They've taken enough from us already. No more.


	26. Chapter 26

Tris' POV

"Is he ready for this?" David asks, staring over at Eric.

"He has to be," I say.

The past two days have been filled with all of us training constantly. The Allegiant soldiers have been working on improving the skills we are all going need to if we want a shot in winning the fight coming our way.

Eric hasn't lost his touch, which is good because he's one of the best soldiers the Allegiant have. He's been helping the other men and women for the past 48 hours. The tension is high, particularly among the younger soldiers. Their experience is greatly lacking compared to veterans like Eric and Amar.

"He apologized yesterday for leading Jeanine and Evelyn to us," David comments.

"He blames himself," I reply, cleaning out my gun.

"And you blame me," he says.

My silence speaks for me.

As the leader it was his job to keep his people informed. Instead, he kept all of us in the dark. Now there's an army planning to march on our doorstep any day now. What did David hope to gain by keeping the tracking device a secret?

"Being in charge means making tough decisions," he says. "I'll be the first to admit that I made a bad one."

"You did," I agree.

He laughs lightly. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

I glance up at him. "Should I?"

Sobering, he says, "No."

Fingering the handle to my gun, I look over at Eric. He's sparing with a teenage, sandy-haired boy. "People are going to die," I say.

"It's a part of war, I'm afraid."

"Why didn't you warn us sooner?" I ask him.

Slowly, he sits beside me on the bench. "I had hoped to prevent the people from panicking. Seems to have backfired, hasn't it?"

"Pretending that danger isn't approaching, isn't going to fix the problem, David."

Sighing, he looks out at the men and women littering the massive gym. "I always thought we would be the ones to go charging into battle."

"We might not have the advantage of surprise, but neither do they."

"I am sorry, Tris. You've gone through so much. I should have warned you sooner," he says.

Moving from the bench, I say, "What's done is done."

I nod my head at him and walk away. I'm not nearly as angry at him as I was. I can understand the tough calls he has to make daily, and I respect him well enough. I'm just afraid our lack of time is going to cost us.

* * *

Eric's POV

"I'm really good at this," I say.

"You aren't bad," Tris says nonchalantly.

"Not bad? Not bad? Sweetheart, I'm a pro."

Laughing, she sets the crossbow over her right shoulder. "Let's see how the pro compares when the champion steps up to the plate," she teases.

I watch as she delicately pulls the trigger, hitting the target dummy dead in the eye. "Not bad," I say.

This is what I hope we used to be like. We're facing probable death and we're laughing together, learning together. She makes what's happening less scary. I feel stronger with her having my back.

"Not bad?" she asks incredulously. "Sweetheart, I'm a pro."

Unable to contain the overwhelming joy I feel, I set the crossbow down, run at her, and toss her over my shoulder playfully. I twirl us around, enjoying her shriek of laughter. People around us are smiling along with us, and I think this is it - this is what a united people should look like.

"Put me down, Eric!" Tris cries.

Pausing, I ask, "What's the magic word?"

Giggling, she smacks my back. "Bully!"

"That's not it. Sorry," I say, spinning.

"Okay, okay! Please, please, please, let me down."

Grinning, I set her back on her feet. Her face is flushed red, her mouth is turned up in a smile.

I kiss her.

Startled, she gasps, giving me the opportunity to push my tongue into her mouth. Losing control, I drag her closer. For me this is our first kiss. I can't recall ever having kissed her before, which is okay because I have her now.

"Hey, you two!" Christina yells. "Back to work."

Pulling away, Tris laughs, and lays her head on my shoulder. "Well, that was unexpected," she says softly.

"Was it unwanted?" I ask uncertainly.

A breathless chuckle answers my question. "It was very much wanted. You are always going to be wanted," she whispers.

Relieved, I rest my cheek on top of her head. "Was it anything like our first kiss?"

"Close enough," she replies, kissing my shoulder before untangling herself from my grasp.

"About time," Christina mutters. "We're supposed to be improving our ass kicking skills, not slobbering on each other."

Everyone cheers at her words. Chuckling, I gaze down into the eyes that make my life worth living. "So how about we try out those zombie axes?"

She's already moving to the steel weapons hanging on the wall. "Let's see what you've got, Dauntless boy."


	27. Chapter 27

Tris' POV

"They're coming," Jen announces.

We were asleep. Were.

The time for sleep has passed.

War is coming.

Its shadow proceeds it.

Creeping. Coming. Stalking. Storming.

"Let's go," Amar commands.

I get dressed next to Eric. I button my pants and throw on my jacket. My boots are next. I tie each shoe with care.

"This is it," Eric says, lacing up his own boots.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"Are you?"

I will never be ready. I was born ready. "Yes."

He doesn't tell me he's ready. He says nothing at all. I don't know if that means he's prepared for what lies ahead, or not. I guess it doesn't matter.

"I love you," he says.

Yes. I need that. I need his love. I need it to breathe, to keep going.

I'm going to survive this. I'm going to come out stronger. I tell myself these things to make myself head to the gates, along with the other soldiers. I don't look at them because if I do it's only going to hurt worse when I watch them die. Or maybe they'll watch me die.

It's hard to say.

"Eric, wait."

I stand toe to toe with him. People are passing us from all sides. The sun hasn't yet risen. The moon and stars fade gradually from view. Birds are just beginning to sing their songs.

The world goes on. The earth keeps spinning. Our presence her is temporary. Time will turn us to dust; to ashes in the wind. My name will be forgotten, but here - today, I have the chance to be a part of something bigger than myself. Today I can help change the world.

"I need you to know I'm afraid," I say. "I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid of living. But most of all I'm afraid of leaving you, of you leaving me. It's selfish, and I should be thinking of the bigger picture here."

Sucking air into my lungs, I carry on. "For me though the bigger picture will always be you."

It's not the time for this. The thing is, if I don't say it now I might never get the chance to. "I love you. Promise me we'll make it," I plead.

"We're going to make it," he promises confidently.

I repeat the sentence in my head. I let the words coat my skin, giving me a kind of armor. "You're my best friend," I say.

Ignoring what's going on around us, I focus on his face. "I haven't told you since I got you back, but you are more than just my lover. You're every cliche thing I can think of."

I place a hand over his heart. "You save me everyday by just breathing."

"Tris-"

"I never tell you these things. I've got terrible timing, I know, but I want you to know, to never doubt, that what I feel for you is strong enough to tear through the world and burn it down if it comes to that."

"I love you," he growls roughly, cupping my face with his large hands, bringing his mouth to press against mine in a move of pure, unconstrained need.

Christina mentioned the talk they had. I feel responsible for the insecurities he felt he had to hide from me. Emotional declarations aren't my thing. I hold what I feel inside more often than not, and by doing that I've been hurting him. It's something I'll have work on when this is over.

"Let's go change the world," I say.

"Right beside you," he replies.

* * *

Eric's POV

I'm afraid.

The closer we get to what they call Abnegation, the more heavy my feet feel. Each step I take feels like trying to move through quick sand.

Blurry memories are beginning to take shape.

I can remember the Woman more clearly. She wore pant suits and her short, blonde hair was always curled to perfection. She was the one who kept me locked up in a cold room, tied up to a hard, dirty bed.

I think she would watch while men wearing surgical masks would open me up without reason. I'd scream and beg them to stop, but she would only stare at their handy work, or demand they cut more of my flesh open.

Memories of her telling me she would stop if I'd tell her what she wanted to know, start to resurface. The needles were an extra incentive when I refused to tell her anything. They gave me drugs that made things seem real but weren't. I would hallucinate horrible, terrifying things seconds after they gave them to me.

My insides freeze when I recall the first hallucination I had after being injected. I thought Tris had come into the room. My fevered mind thought she had come to save me. I cried for her to help me.

It ended with her ripping through my stomach with the small surgical scissors.

There were more hallucinations. So many more. All designed to turn me against Tris and everyone else.

It never worked. After each one, I remember being able to push them out of my mind because I knew they were lies. I don't know how I never confused the real truth with the truth the Woman wanted me to believe. I just knew Tris would never do any of the things the drugs wanted me to think she did. I knew she loved me. She had proven it by saving me multiple times.

In those moments were my sweaty body would be shaking and trembling pathetically after the drug had run its course, I would try to remember as much of Tris as I could. The real Tris.

She was the only thing keeping me halfway sane during that time. Her laugh, her beautiful eyes, her lips. I would lay there and make a list of all the things I loved about her.

Coming back to the present, I turn my gaze to Tris. "I'm starting to remember more clearly what they did to me," I say.

"What do you remember?"

Talking about it is hard. Fear is twisting my stomach into knots and sweat is breaking out on my forehead. Thinking and talking about it makes me feel as if I'm back in that room, tied down, helpless to escape.

"The Woman wanted me to tell her where you were," I say, my voice low.

Horror and something very similar to rage settles on her face. "When you wouldn't tell her, she tortured you, and when that didn't work she resorted to tagging you," she says quietly.

"Yes."

"You were a pawn in her game, Eric, and I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter now," I say.

Gripping my gun more firmly in its holster, I try to stay calm.

"It does matter," she replies darkly.

"I'm remembering bits and pieces of our past," I tell her.

"I'm glad," she says, gazing up at me, face gentle and sweet.

"You promised we would survive together."

"I did."

Looking at the soldiers marching to Abnegation, I start to feel less scared. I'm not alone this time.


	28. Chapter 28

Guns and knives and arrows and axes are harmless compared to what humans are capable of. Weapons are just tools we use to do whatever we wish them to do. So it isn't guns and knives and arrows and axes we should be afraid of. It's us.

* * *

We find them camped out in Abnegation for the night. It's completely dark when one of our men come back telling us where they are; what they're doing.

The scout can't be older than 16. Black hair hides part of his face. He's extremely thin, and his voice sounds like it's in the beginning stages of puberty. "They're down for the night," he says. "They have ten guards on duty, circling the area."

We all look to Amar. As acting leader of this division, we wait to see what he wants us to do.

"Ten of you will take on the guards. You find them, take them down, and be quiet about it. Do not give them the chance to call out a warning," he says.

Someone comes to stand beside me while Amar and Jen pick out ten soldiers. Short, dark-skinned - Christina.

"Well, this should be fun," she says.

"Gonna be a blast," I mumble.

The designated men and women disappear into the night. The rest of us stand down and hope our people are able to take care of the guards.

The wind whips around us, giving the air a chilly quality to it. I have a light jacket, but it's hardly warm enough to keep the cold from seeping into my bones. My teeth are chattering and my fingers are gripping my gun to keep them from shaking. I stare at the ground, wondering how long we're going to have to wait.

"Listen up!" Amar yells, his voice ringing loud and clear.

Standing on a flat piece of rock, he address us, Jen by his side. "We are the Allegiant! We never give up, we never back down. We will fight together for humanity. We will show them what we are made of tonight. If we fail, we will fail with honor, with dignity!"

"Remember who you are, brothers and sisters. Remember why we are here. Be brave, be strong."

Everyone around me cheers, their fists pumping.

"Quite the passionate speech," Christina says, for my ears only.

It was. Very inspiring. They needed to be inspired. We all need to know we aren't risking our lives for nothing. Myself included.

Lara steps to my other side. "I hope you made the right decision," she says softly, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What do you mean?" Chris demands.

"It would be a shame to have accused the wrong man," she replies indifferently.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye. "Or woman," she whispers, disappearing into the crowd.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Chris questions.

A bad feeling settles in my gut. "Four wasn't the mole," I say.

Desperately, I search for her. Everyone's too close together for me to see very far. They're all oblivious to the traitor that's in their midst.

I have to find her.

Christina follows me. "What do you mean?"

Pushing through the crowd, I say, "Lara. She's the mole."

I spot her on my left. She's hidden in the shadows under a tall building, and the barrel of her gun is pointed at Amar.

Chris gasps and I raise my gun. "Amar, get down!" I shout.

I think he might've heard me because his head turns in my direction - as soon as Lara pulls the trigger.

Past that, everything happens in slow motion. I fire my gun, Amar crumples to the ground, Lara's thin body following next.

The air is filled with screams and cries of terror. I hear other guns going off in reaction to mine. Chaos has ensued. It's too dark to see clearly, and I'm being pushed around by a group of people scared for their lives.

"Tris!" A male voice shouts, barely reaching my ears.

"Eric?" I call, turning around in a circle.

"Tris!" he yells again, more desperate this time.

I can't find him.

Christina's no longer beside me, and I can't see if Amar's okay, or if Lara got away. I shot her, I saw it, but I don't know where the bullet landed. For all I know, she's headed into the city, intent on warning the enemy of what's coming their way.

I start making my way to the place Amar was standing when Lara fired off that shot. It's easy enough because a lot of people have congregated to the spot, all wanting to get a glimpse of the fallen leader.

"I need to get through," I say each time someone gets in my way.

Eventually, I make it to the front of the crowd. Amar is on his back, staring up at the sky. Jen is on her knees beside him, crying as she quickly wraps her jacket around his stomach.

"Come on. Come on! You don't get to quit on me now," she says fiercely, tying the makeshift bandage tight.

Groaning, he replies, "Like I'd ever leave a woman like you."

It's obvious I've missed the type of relationship these two have. They never gave off any clues that they were a couple. For Jen's sake, I pray he can hold on.

"Lara," I say quickly. "Lara was the one who tipped Evelyn off. I saw her shoot him," I tell Jen.

"Where is she?" Jen asks, getting to her feet.

"I don't know. I shot her right after she shot Amar, but I can't find her now, so it must not have been a fatal wound."

Damn it, I think. If she makes it to Jeanine or Evelyn before we strike our attack, we're going to be more screwed than we are now.

"We need to get moving," I say. "She can't make it to them before we do."

"I have to stay with him," she replies, an apology in her eyes.

"I understand."

As fast as I can, I climb onto the boulder Amar was standing on not even 10 minutes ago. Lifting my gun to the sky, I fire off three shots.

"Stay calm!" I address the frantic people.

Quieting, they look to me, everyone pushing each other to get closer.

"Our leader has been shot by someone they had working on the inside," I say. "He's alive, but we have to make our move now. They will soon be alerted to our coming, and it's crucial we infiltrate the city before they have a chance to prepare themselves."

Eric's in the front, looking up at me, relieved.

To the side I can make out Christina and Uriah. I breathe a sigh of relief to see them unharmed.

"We will not let them win! Do _not_ let them win!" I holler. "Tonight their tyranny will come to an end. Tonight we will be victorious!"

I hop down to united cheering and shouting. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Eric rushes to me, and grabs my waist.

"I was so worried," he says.

"Lara can't make it to their camp, Eric. She's hurt so that might slow her down, but she's got a head start."

Nodding, he leads me to Chris and Uriah. "You realize you're in charge, right?" he asks.

"No, I-"

"Tris," Uriah steps in, "these people just lost their leader. You're kinda all we got."

Looking to Eric for support, I say, "I'm not a leader."

"They need you," Eric replies. "You know the layout of Abnegation better than anyone besides Amar."

"I can't," I say, looking between the people I trust the most.

"You have to," Christina insists.

I look away from them to find hundreds of eyes focused on me. They're all waiting for me now, and it's terrifying. I can't lead these soldiers. I can barely lead myself.

"Tris," Eric murmurs. "Have faith in yourself. You can do this."

I can't, but I don't have a choice. We're running out of time fast. The clock is ticking, ticking, ticking.

"Let's head out," I say, sticking my gun in the waistband of my pants.


	29. Chapter 29

Five miles in and we're walking down the empty streets, no sign of life in sight. I didn't hear where the scout said they were exactly, but the only place that would hold a large group of people would be the Center Square, which is right in the middle of Abnegation.

The night is quiet. It reminds me of what my life used to be like. My old faction lived life silently. Now this part of the city is empty, abandoned. The ones not dead have either joined forces with Jeanine and the factionless, or they have found sanctuary with Amity.

Lara hasn't been seen or heard. We made good time, but I don't know. I feel eons out of my league. The responsibility that has been placed on me feels too heavy for me to carry.

"Chris, we need to surround them," I say. "My guess is that they're in the Center Square. I want you and half our men to go around and come at them from the opposite side."

"Do you think the guards are down?" she asks.

"Hope so."

None of our men have crossed our path, which should have happened. If they had taken care of the guards they would have sent a flare, or the scout would've come back.

"So how far is the Square from here?" Uriah questions, shining a light on the map in his hands.

"One mile north," I say.

"Okay," Chris says, determination setting a flame in her brown eyes.

I half listen as she divides the soldiers up. My main focus is on the dark streets, the crumbling buildings. Something feels...off, like we're walking into a trap.

The only advantage we have is the element of surprise and I'm afraid we might have lost it. David warned us there were more of them than us. They have more ammunition as well. If we lose the element of surprise, then we basically just signed up for a suicide mission.

Up ahead, I hear a soft cracking sound. It was sharp like the breaking of a stick. We have no lights, which means I can only see a couple of feet in front of me. Which means I might as well be blind.

Straining to hear what the sound might have been, I tune everything else out. I take a few steps away from the group, listening closely for...anything.

I rationalize what I could have heard. It's windy out, I could have misheard, or the sound could have carried from afar. I could be letting my paranoia get the best of me.

Searching the darkness, I detect nothing. I scan the area a few seconds longer. My back is almost turned when I hear whistling in the wind. It's fast, and then there's pain.

I feel myself stumbling, yelling.

A bullet clipped my ear. My yells get drowned out by others, and it has officially begun.

Dragging my gun from my waistband, I face the darkness that's now alight with people. Being in the front I get to see Jeanine's and Evelyn's army, running straight for us. Numerous bodies are scaling the sides of the buildings, hopping from roof to roof.

I fire my weapon, hitting two men. As fast as I can manage, I get off the street, pressing my back into a stone building. I press two fingers to my ear; both appendages come back sticky. I'm lucky to be alive. If I hadn't been moving, I'd have a bullet in my face.

I look up as soon as I've been spotted by a young teenage girl. In her palm, I think I see a small knife, which she raises her arm to throw. I'm faster; the bullet finds contact with her chest before the knife makes it out of her hand. I don't linger to watch her fall.

Throwing myself into the fray, I pull the dual switchblade Christina gave me out of my shoe. I snap it open, barely having time to dig it into an attackers stomach.

I ignore the sucking, wet noise the weapon makes when I pull it out of my victim's flesh. Five more faceless soldiers follow when through the darkness I see Uriah struggling with a large, broad shouldered man. He's got a hold of Uriah's neck with one meaty hand while the other is about to land a spiked club down on Uriah's head.

Sprinting, I fling the dual blade with precision. The muscled man slumps to the ground, my shiny titanium blade sticking out of his neck.

"I totally had it under control!" Uriah shouts, grabbing for his gun that had been flung to the side, presumably by the meat-head.

"Looked liked it!"

Hands wrap around my neck from behind, squeezing painfully. I ram an elbow into my assailant's gut, smiling when he grunts in response. The move wasn't forceful enough to free myself, but Uriah steps in, shooting the man in the back. Free, I run to retrieve my knife.

"I had it!" I tell Uriah.

"Whatever!" he replies, pulling the trigger on a woman who was shooting from a second story house.

The bodies are piling up. Our people and theirs.

Two sides mixing together like trail mix.

I cut and I slash for hours, or probably more like minutes, but it feels like hours and each kill leaves me more animal-like than the last. I can't think when I cut people open, or when I shoot them. I have to turn off that part of my brain and pray I'll be able to turn it on again when this is over.

Up ahead, Christina and Eric are fighting together, back to back. I attempt to go to them, but I'm stopped by a man sporting an eye patch. Edward.

He steps out of the shadows, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Brass knuckles decorate both hands.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he says, over the roar of war.

Getting a better grip on my dual blade, I watch him step closer. "Sadly, I haven't got permission to kill you. Evelyn wants that particular honor."

I slash the air, stopping him from getting closer. He jumps back, an evil, smug smirk on his face. "So sassy," he says.

Disgusted, I raise my gun, ready to end him. I'm about to squeeze the trigger, but arms grab me from behind, dragging me into a house. The sneak attack catches me off guard, causing me to pull the trigger, the bullet shooting me in the foot.

My scream is not heard by anyone due to the sweaty palm covering my mouth. The inside of the assaulter's palm has been cut open; blood from the wound seeps into my mouth.

Edward follows us, his smirk never faltering.


	30. Chapter 30

"Set her down in the chair, and don't bother restraining her. She's not going anywhere with a foot full of lead." Edward says.

The arms release me. I fall as soon as I put pressure on my right foot. I'm pulled back roughly to be set in a rickety wooden chair.

"Tie her foot up. We wouldn't want her to bleed out before the fun begins."

There's a ripping noise and the previous unknown attacker is not so unknown anymore.

"Caleb," I gasp.

His eyes meet mine for a second before they flicker to the torn cloth in his hand.

"Family reunions are always so pleasant," Edward comments. "Except maybe this time."

"Caleb, what's going on?" I ask.

He wraps my foot up, then moves off to the side, not saying a word.

Edward sighs dramatically. "Factions before blood, Tris."

"Caleb," I plead.

His head turns to look at me, and I don't see my brother. I see a cold, empty shell doing other people's dirty work.

The back door creeks open.

All Abnegation houses are the same. We're in the living room and the kitchen is right in the next room, which is where the back entrance is located.

Swerving in my chair, I turn in time to see Evelyn walk in.

"Well, well, well," she murmurs.

Dragging her gaze from my face, she focuses on Edward and Caleb. "Guard the doors," she commands.

Both men follow her orders immediately.

I can hear the gunfire and the screams through the walls. Eric's out there. And I'm in here.

"It's good to see you again, Evelyn."

"I doubt that," she replies, grinning flatly.

"I heard you teamed up with Jeanine," I continue. "That desperate, huh?"

Her smile grows exponentially. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you?"

"When Lara told us about the Allegiant I thought it would be wise to kill two birds with one stone," she says.

So she plans to turn on Jeanine when the time comes.

"You're hurt," she observes, forehead creased with false concern. "Where's Eric to protect you from the factionless? I heard you were successful in recovering him after Jeanine had her fun with him."

Anger shoots a flare inside of my body. "If you plan on killing me just do it," I spit out.

"I was hoping we could have a nice chat before the messy bit started," she replies.

"I have nothing to say."

"That can't be true," she cries excitedly. "You have nothing to say about how I had Lara feed me intel during her time with your small party? You have nothing to say concerning the horror Eric was put through? What about how your brother has turned against you for a woman obsessed with killing you?"

"It would seem as if you've won," I say. "Congratulations."

Dissatisfaction flickers in her eyes.

"I hope you're prepared for what Jeanine will do to you and your group of rebels when you defeat us," I say. "Not even you can out maneuver her, Evelyn."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

I shift in my seat, watching her move to the window facing the street. She discreetly parts the curtains. "War," she says softly. "Such a tragically beautiful thing."

With her back to me, I lean over, reaching for the other blade I keep in my left shoe. My fingers clasp over the handle. Slowly, I draw it up the side of my leg, and hide it behind my back.

"Caleb," she calls sharply.

Silently, he appears from the kitchen, awaiting further orders.

Evelyn looks to me, her expression a strange mixture of happiness and calm. "It's time," she says.

Time.

Caleb slowly walks over to a desk in the corner, pulls out a small handgun, and points the barrel of the gun at me.

I've never seen my brother hold a weapon in his hands before.

"You took my son from me," Evelyn says, stepping to Caleb's side. "I thought it would make us even if Caleb, your brother, took something from you. You're life."

I don't think I'm capable of doing what I know I have to do. I could kill Evelyn, but Caleb...

We used to make mud pies as children when we had free time. He would tell me stories of princes and princesses when I would get sick. At night if I had nightmares, he would let me enter his room and sleep with him even though it wasn't allowed.

So how can I possibly kill him?

"You don't have to do this, Caleb," I say faintly.

The hand holding the knife is shaking uncontrollably. I'm not strong enough for this. My parents are dead, people I love is dead, and I'm contemplating adding my brother to the list. How?

"You're dangerous, Beatrice," he replies.

"I'm not. I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"Then why were you murdering people out there?" he asks, striding closer.

"Because they want to kill us," I say desperately. "They're evil, Caleb. They will kill anyone who stands in their way."

"We only want peace," he says stiffly.

"By silencing human beings!" I scream.

Evelyn steps back, a twisted grin lighting her features up like a child with its favorite toy. Like the sick person she is, she finds entertainment in this. Like a dirty sponge, she squeezes out as much of the nasty water as she can, and each disgusting drop brings her joy.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, not looking sorry at all.

"Me too," I reply.

I let the blade fly from my fingers; the move as effortless as breathing, and I feel the tears fall down my face when the knife finds its mark.

Pushing the pain into a box in the corner of my mind, I hobble to my feet, intent on reaching the gun before Evelyn can. I'm halfway there before she's on me, her fingers digging into the skin of my throat.

"No! I will not let you destroy everything I've worked so hard to accomplish!" she shouts, spittle flying from her mouth.

We fall to the ground, the pain in my foot throbbing when her foot falls onto mine. Choking back the cry of pain, I jab my fist into her kidney.

She lets out her own cry of pain and attempts to grab my hands with one of hers. I don't hesitate to grab a handful of her hair, yanking her neck back in the process. I'm able to get enough leverage to get her off of me, and I punch her in the nose.

Dazed, her eyes roll back into her head. I punch her two more times.

"I hate you!" I shout. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Suddenly, she gains the upper hand, striking the butt of Caleb's gun against my face.

We must have rolled over to him somehow, I think.

Smiling, she flips the gun around.

"It's over, Tris," she says, voice victorious.

A shot fires off in the room. Evelyn's body slumps on top of me, dead.


	31. Chapter 31

"He's dead," I whisper. "He's dead. He's dead. I killed him. He's dead."

"Tris," a voice says.

"It's my fault. He's dead. I killed him. He's dead."

"Come on, Tris, focus on me," the same voice begs.

 _I don't want to focus on anything. Doesn't the voice know I have nothing left? There isn't a part of me that isn't broken. Jeanine has won. Evelyn has won._

Warm lips crash against mine - hungry and loving at the same time.

"I can't," I cry, uncaring of what happens to me.

I'm done.

"You can," the voice insists. "You have to."

My eyes open and Evelyn is no longer on top of me. Her blood is no longer staining my clothes because I'm no longer wearing a shirt. I'm on a bed in a house, most likely the same house, I think.

"What's going on?"

Eric runs his hand down my arm in a soothing manner. "We're currently hiding while a battle plays on outside."

"Evelyn?"

"I shot her. Edward too," he says.

"I had to kill Caleb," I whimper.

 _Please tell me I had to._

"He made his choice. You had to make yours," he says.

But was my choice the right one? Would it have been better to let him kill me? I wouldn't be laying here dealing with the guilt if he had.

"Are we going to make it through this?" I ask.

"Yes."

I'm not so sure anymore.

"David sent in more men."

Opening my eyes, I sit up. "What?"

"Four came charging in with more soldiers," he says.

David let him out? Maybe he thought it was worth the risk.

"And Christina and a small division went off in search of Jeanine. I tried to stop her, but she was adamant that we cut off both heads while we had the chance."

It's a lot to take in. Too much right now.

"Are we safe in here?" I ask.

"We should be. We've killed most of them."

"We couldn't have done it without Four," he adds.

It's a strange sensation, but I feel numb. I'm processing everything, yet it's like I'm processing it from afar. Like the information isn't relevant to myself. I'm tired and I feel more dead than alive, or maybe that's wishful thinking.

"His mother," I say softly.

Four's mother is dead. I suppose I'm not the only one who's lost their entire family.

As always, Eric swoops in to rescue me when I can't find the will to rescue myself. "I'll tell him," he says, wiping away a tear I hadn't been aware of with his thumb.

I know I should refuse the offer. I should be strong and carry that burden for Eric, but all I can do right now is hold my breath and hope I can contain the sobs.

"Sleep," he orders gently. "I'll keep you safe, Tris. Sleep now."

He urges me to lay down, and I promptly bury my face in the side of his hip. With one hand, he plays with my hair, the other keeps his gun trained on the door.

Quietly, he starts humming an unfamiliar tune. I drift off to the sad melody, thinking it might not be so bad if I ever wake up again.

* * *

Eric's POV

I've been sitting beside her for awhile when I hear the front door open. I'm on my feet in an instant. I stride into the hallway after closing the bedroom door.

I quickly peak around the corner, and I find Four in the floor with Evelyn's head in his lap.

He doesn't look away from her face. "She was all I had left," he says.

"I'm sorry," I say, still standing several feet away.

I remember small things about Four. I know we used to be enemies. I know he loves Tris. I also know he resents the fact I won her.

"I'm sorry she was the way she was." He sets her gently back onto the floor. "We won," he says, getting to his feet.

"This round."

"If Christina takes care of Jeanine I'd say the worst is behind us," he replies.

Probably, but evil always finds a way to exist.

He scans the room; his eyes find Caleb's body. "How is she?" he asks, undoubtedly meaning Tris.

"I don't know."

She was desperately empty. The look in her eyes when I pulled Evelyn off her scared, no, petrified me. She wouldn't acknowledge my presence. The only sign of life was her constant murmuring. She kept saying 'He's dead'. She muttered those two words until they lost all meaning.

"She's tough," Four reminds me, seeming to understand and recognize my worry.

"She's gone through a lot," I say. "Maybe too much."

"You're letting your fear control you," he replies. "Tris is stronger than even she knows. She'll be okay."

"And you?" I ask. "Are you going to be okay?"

He gazes down at his dead mother. "Are you, Eric?"

Am I? I think so. As long as I have Tris. Having her in my life makes me feel less fractured. "I've never given up before," I say roughly.

He smiles humorlessly. "Me either."

It's not really an answer, but answers are in short supply right now.

I hear Tris talking in her sleep. She sounds agitated. Four hears too and he hesitantly heads for the front door. "I'll round up the survivors," he says, leaving as quietly as he came.

I go to Tris. I coo nonsense to her until she settles back down, and I hope for a peaceful future.

* * *

 _The next morning_

Four's POV

The cleanup was rough. We burned the dead in the Center Square. Bodies were thrown on top of bodies and we lit them up, turning them to ashes. My mother was in that pile. My friends and allies along with her.

David sent trucks for the wounded and Uriah and I loaded as many up as we could. The survivors all had numerous jobs. Some checked the area for the dead; others were in charge of helping the wounded. Through it all, we stayed silent.

I eventually go to the house Eric and Tris are in, and I knock on the door. Eric opens the door with Tris beside him, leaning heavily against him. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face and hair are covered in blood.

"I've got a spot saved for you on one of the trucks," I tell them.

"Christina?" Tris asks me.

She looks far too fragile. The morning sun only enhances the purple bags under her eyes. Her trembling hands are clutching Eric's shirt so tightly she's going to dig holes into the cloth.

"She's not back yet," I say, "and David can't find her on surveillance."

It's not looking good, but we can't lose hope. We won a big battle last night. It's a fantastic start, if not the end to a terrible war.

Nodding resolutely, she takes the steps off the porch, Eric carrying most of her weight.

I go back into the house as soon as the trucks leave. I think about my past life. My mother and father together. Then I remember my mother gone, and me the only one left for my father to beat on. I remember Dauntless. Initiation. Tris. Allegiant. Death.

I stand there longer than I had planned, but when I leave, I close the door, hop into the last truck, and I don't look back.

* * *

 _Two days after the battle_

Tris' POV

Most of the survivors have taken to sitting in the control room, praying for a miracle. We've searched the video feed till our eyeballs are so dry we can't blink, and still we haven't found Christina or the soldiers she took with her. The last time she was seen, she was approaching Erudite headquarters.

Tired of hoping for something that isn't going to happen, I pick up my crutches and head for the cafeteria. Eric and Jen are already there, sitting and talking together.

"Tris," Jen greets gently, as if she talks too loud I'll shatter into a million pieces.

I just might.

"How's Amar?" I ask her, plopping down into the seat next to Eric.

"He's recovering nicely," she replies, her face brightening considerably.

"I'm glad," I say, attempting to smile, but end up failing.

"How are-" she starts.

"We found them!" Uriah yells, bounding into the cafeteria.


	32. Chapter 32

Christina's POV

I did it.

I found her.

I killed her.

She was exactly where I thought she'd be - in Erudite watching the fight from the safety of her office. Headquarters had been mostly empty. A few guards littered the stairs and hallways, but with my men it had been easy getting to her office.

I saw her as soon as we entered the room. She was intently observing a screen mounted up on the wall, and when her eyes landed on me and the other men, she launched herself at her desk. Her frantic hands where searching for something in one of the drawers when I shot her between the eyes.

It was rather...anticlimactic. Jeanine had underestimated us. Her complete faith in her army had been her downfall.

Assassinating Jeanine hadn't been the hard part. The real challenge was getting the Erudite civilians to trust us, and surrender peacefully.

I had no way of getting word to David. Turned out Jeanine had found the cameras, destroying them immediately upon discovery. Once I felt the soldiers and I had everything under control, I sent two men back, leaving the rest with me.

Two days were spent talking people down, assuring people of their safety. Many Erudite scientists and other workers are still suspicious of us, untrusting. The children hide behind their parents when we enter a room. The men and women glare at our intimidating presence constantly.

I haven't let my guard down in fear that there are Jeanine followers among the people. It's really hard to say; none of them have tried hurting us, but that hardly means they won't.

This really feels like the start of something new though.

* * *

Tris' POV

"I'm going with you," I say.

Eric smiles that happy smile of his. "You better. Christina's going to want to see you're alive and well for herself."

I expected him to try and make me stay behind. "You aren't going to argue with me?"

"No," he says, twirling a piece of my hair around his forefinger.

He loves the length of it. It's grown out from the boy cut into a short bob, the bottom curling around my ears delicately.

"It's not my job to lock you up in a cage," he says meaningfully.

Time stops.

"You remember."

He remembers how horrible I was to him. He knows now how selfish and cruel I am. He's going to leave me. Why would he stay when he could do so much better?

"Hmmm, not everything," he replies, hugging me to him. "There's blank spots preventing me from remembering everything, but I remember more than I thought I would ever be able to."

"Tell me what you remember about us," I request.

Setting his chin against the top of my head, he slides his hands around my waist. "You jumped off the building first," he says, laughing.

"I was your enemy," he continues in a whisper, "but you were never mine. You shot me in the foot like the hero you are. You protected me from Evelyn after I was stabbed in the stomach."

He remembers a lot.

"I followed you here. We joined a revolution. And here we are," he says.

"I was awful to you," I say, burrowing further into his fleece jacket.

"I love you, Tris. That's never going to stop. You were angry and if I remember correctly I was trying too hard to protect you."

He makes it sound so simple. He absolves me of my sins like I never did anything worth being sorry over. He puts the blame on himself rather than condemn me.

"I shouldn't have-"

He forces me to look at him. "Stop," he commands. "I'm sure I'll say something in the future that will make us even," he says, softening.

I let it go. I refuse to push him away when he seems intent on staying by my side. Letting it go is the only way to prevent that from happening.

I hold him. He's the only thing keeping me anchored to reality. Without him, the waves of regret would crash over me, they would drown me. Water would fill my lungs until they burst. I'd be lost to the sea forever.

* * *

 _Later that day_

Tris' POV

I'm sitting in the bed of a truck, enjoying the warm sun on my face. We've just reached the boundary line that leads into Erudite.

Four and David are in the front, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Eric and I sit side by side, holding hands, while watching the passing scenery fly by.

Caleb lived here. He had an apartment in one of the stone buildings. He spent his spare time in the library, probably pouring over book after book, desperate for more information. He would've taken walks at dusk because he loved walking at that time of night when we were children.

"Up ahead!" Four shouts over his shoulder at us.

There's Christina in front of the library. Two men stand on her left and right side, guarding her.

As soon as Four brakes to a stop, I climb out. I don't have to wait long before she's there, hugging me.

"You're okay," she says, relief evident in her steady gaze.

"Besides shooting myself in the foot, I'm as healthy as a horse," I reply, the teasing coming easier with seeing my friend safe and sound.

Her eyes drift to my bandaged foot. "You're aim has always been a little off."

I smile at the soft jab. Always the Candor, this one.

"Good to see you again, Chris," Eric says, giving her a one-sided hug.

"You too, Eric," she replies, her voice sincere.

"I hate to break up the reunion, but I need to see the people," David cuts into the conversation.

Chris extends her hand for him to shake. "Sir," she greets. "Right this way. We've got them contained in one building."

We all follow her. There are people mulling around right when we enter the building. Their blue clothing reveals them to be Erudite, and their cold eyes remind me of Jeanine. How many are going to cooperate? How many hate us for murdering their leader?

David instantly goes into leader mode, making speeches of how he only wants to help. He talks about the Allegiant, and how he wants everyone in the city to become a united people, free from strife. A few of them seem interested in his words, tempted by the peace he's offering. Then there are others who look at us like we're cockroaches they want to squish under their shoes.

While David makes his speech, Christina gestures for us follow her down a dark hallway.

"There's something I thought you guys should see," she says when we're no longer in danger of being heard.

"What is it?" Four asks, striding alongside her.

She leads us into a small room. Cabinets line every inch of available wall space. It looks like an outdated file room. I would think that Erudite would keep all important information on their computers.

"I was going through some of these papers yesterday," Christina says. "I found this."

She extends a thin folder to Eric. He stares at it several seconds before taking it from her.

"What's in here?" he asks nervously.

"The truth," she responds.

She then grabs Four's hand and tells him she wants to talk with him. They leave the small room, hand in hand.

When minutes go by and he's not opened the folder, I ask, "Are you going to open it?"

He shakes his head, looking at me. "I know enough of the truth."

"Eric-"

He slams the folder down on a metal cabinet. "I know enough."

Not willing to press him for more than he can give, I say, "Okay."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. He takes a deep breath, and hands the file to me. "I'm not ready just yet. I don't want to know what she was thinking, or what her ultimate plan was. It's enough that you got me out. It's enough that she can't hurt anyone else."

I take the folder, and cup his cheek reassuringly. "I'll keep it for you until you're ready."

"Thank you," he says, moving his lips over mine.

The door opens, revealing a smiling Christina. "David's finished," she tells us, graciously not mentioning the position she's caught us in.

Embarrassed, I lean on my crutches, and stare down at the floor.

"Come on," Eric whispers in my ear. "I'm ready to go home."

Me too.

* * *

Tris' POV

On the way out I notice there are names on some of the doors lining the hallways. One of those names catch my eye. I distractedly tell the others to go on without me. I miss Eric's worried expression and Four's hesitation in leaving. I'm too focused on the door with Caleb Prior's name engraved on it.

This has to be his room.

Half afraid it wouldn't open, I twist the handle. The door swings open, and I'm drawn in like a moth to a flame.

I'm immediately bombarded with books. They're stacked on the floor and on the bookshelves. The bed is made - neat as usual. The studio apartment is spotless and would be completely barren if not for the books.

And a framed picture of me and him on Choosing Day.

We're standing next to each other, smiling about something or other. Neither of us notice we're getting our picture taken.

We look like brother and sister. The same hair color, the same smile. We seem happy. It's been so long I'm not sure if we were that day or not. I just know the sparkle in my eyes isn't fake and his lopsided grin isn't either.

I wonder who took the picture. I also wonder how Caleb got a hold of it and why he would keep it on his nightstand as if it mattered.

I walk to the nightstand, as quick as my crutches will let me. I grab for the picture, staring down at it. My breath hitches and my eyes water.

"You chose," I tell the boy in the photograph. "You made _me_ choose."

"You never loved me," I whisper, ignoring the tears and the pain engulfing my soul.

I sit on the bed. "You were going to kill me. You were my brother!" I yell at the picture.

Unable to look at it any longer, I throw it across the room. Doubling over in pain, I claw at my hair.

"Why?" I demand an answer. "I loved you. You were supposed to love me!"

"Why?" I sob brokenly.

 _No. Stop. No more._

What am I doing? I'm mourning a boy that died long before I killed him. I'm wasting the gift I've been given. Why should I let my life pass me by crying for someone who cared so little for me?

It was horrible what I had to do. It sucked, and I doubt the pain will ever disappear entirely. He was my brother, he was the last link to my past, but he didn't want to be saved. He _chose_ the road of destruction.

I get to my feet. "No. You aren't going to do this to me."

My hands wipe my face frantically, the tears not disappearing fast enough. "You chose. I'm choosing to move on," I tell the room.

I'm not going to break. I'm not going to crumble under the weight of the guilt and the pain. I have to live. I have to keep moving forward.

 _Live, Tris. Live._

I pick my crutches up from the floor.

Home.

I'm going home.


	33. Chapter 33

_Epilogue_

Four's POV

The Bureau is changing the city and its people. All the factions have united. Prejudice is being put aside for the greater good. Colors are mixing - blue and grey, black and yellow.

I'm glad I'm alive to see it.

"It's great, isn't it?"

I look down and see Tris standing next to me, arms crossed, a happy gleam in her eyes.

Abnegation, which is no longer Abnegation, is being rebuilt by previous Dauntless, Erudite, Candor, and Amity. It's a sign of our newfound unity.

"Yes, it is."

Her eyes fix on mine. It took some time, but she's back to the Tris I met so long ago. "I never apologized," she says. "You know, for accusing you of betraying us."

"It's okay," I reply.

I've forgiven her for the part she played in having me locked up. I would have suspected myself too if I'd been her.

Frowning, she places a hand on my arm. "I still want to say I'm sorry. For everything."

"It's fine. I'm fine," I reassure her.

I've accepted that Tris is never going to be mine. Eric has her heart. It's for the best; I could never be what she needed. Eric understands her in a way I never could. The bond they share is like nothing I've ever seen before.

She squeezes my arm affectionately. "Of course you are." Her smile turns wicked. "Chris has helped, hasn't she?"

I feel my face heat up. "I'm not sure what you mean," I say gruffly.

Smirking, Tris bumps her elbow in my side. "I've seen the way you look at her."

Ducking my head, I fight the embarrassed grin wanting to land on my mouth.

"I think she might like you too," she says.

I nudge her in the direction of the working crew. "Go help Eric with that window. He's never going to get it installed," I tease.

She smiles brightly at me. "We're not finished with this conversation, but I'll go away. For now," she warns playfully.

"Hey, Four!" Christina shouts. "I could use some help over here!"

The short, dark haired girl is on one of the roofs, patching up some holes.

Tris' smile widens as she walks away.

I shake my head, no longer fighting my grin. Life isn't so bad. Not so bad at all.

* * *

Eric's POV

"Stupid window," I mutter.

"Having some trouble?" Tris asks, coming up behind me.

Straightening, I glance at her from over my shoulder. "Not all all," I reply.

"So all of those filthy words coming out of your mouth was because...?"

"You must have misheard," I say.

"Right," she says, drawing the one syllable word into five.

Sighing, I scrunch my face up in pain. I can't believe I'm going to say this. "Actually...I could use some help," I admit in a rush.

"I thought that might be the case," she says, smiling.

I watch her as she bends down to pick up the caulk tub. Her hair has lightened from being in the sun so much. Her skin has darkened as well. She's always had a fantastic body, but with all of the construction we've been doing lately, her muscles have toned considerably.

However, it is her eyes that capture my attention more often than not. They shine again. They gleam when she's happy, or when she's excited. Each day that passes, she smiles more. I regularly wake up to her teasing laugh as she pokes me awake. She's healing and I find myself enthralled by her strength, by _her._ She amazes me, inspires me.

She helped me face what Jeanine did to me. The folder Chris gave me was very enlightening. The notes were taken by Jeanine herself. They didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. In the beginning, she had thought she could get me to tell her where the Bureau was located by torturing me. When that plan failed, she stuck a tracking device in my neck and waited for Tris to find me.

Tris had Matthew look over the notes, and he told me I was lucky my brain wasn't fried. Apparently, Jeanine had her scientists experiment on me with some strong stuff. The memory serum along with several other drugs led me to forgetting everything. He informed me I was lucky to be alive.

I knew that.

If I was told I'd get to rock the world with Tris by my side before Peter stabbed me, I would have laughed myself to death, and then shoot the idiot who told me. Because then I never dreamed she could ever love someone like me. I was wrong. I've learned though to never underestimate her. She's Tris Prior after all.

* * *

Tris' POV

Everything is different now. I'm different now. Different, but not broken. Never broken. Because I have too much to live for. I have people who count on me to get up every morning and face the world. Thankfully, the world, or my world at least, is better. So much better.

I'm watching a new city unfold before my eyes. Five factions have molded into one. People are free to be who they want to be. They can come and go whenever, wherever they want.

I asked Eric where he wanted to go after we rebuilt the city. I once promised him I'd see what else the world had to offer. I plan on keeping that promise. As happy as I am that we're fixing what's been broken, I have nothing keeping me here.

It seems that Eric isn't in any big rush to leave though, and that's fine. He's spent his entire life longing for something more, and he's finally found it here. I would never take that away from him. Besides, I'd miss our friends, who are as good as family, and in my experience, family is hard to come by.


End file.
